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blackjackmagi83 · 2 years

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Criminal Behavior (7)

Masterlist

WC: 3.8k

Pairing: Druglords Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes X Detective Original Female Character

Summary: Rose Phillips, one of the best vice detectives in the game, was given a mission to catch the biggest drug lord in all of New York. James Buchanan Barnes. Framing as a lady of the night at a hidden gentlemen’s club, her mission being to do anything it takes to lure her target into her trap. Even if it means going through one of his accomplices to get there. Will the notorious criminals fall for her trap or will Rose fall for their criminal behavior?

Warnings: Lots of swearing, violence, and mild sexual content.

Hope you enjoy the chapter! ♡

Rose watched in silent excitement as Stark gripped the piece of paper. Eyes in disbelieving at the amount of names on the list in his hands. Most he recognized, sending a rush of panic and anger through him. He felt betrayed as he counted the names. He would have to take care of this mess himself.

"This is a great find, truly. I’m not doubting your skills but you're certain this was given to Rogers? I don’t want to be baited into unknown territory for nothing."

Rose shrugged, sipping at the bitter liquid swirling in the cup in her hand, "It was in his office, tucked away in a book. That’s a little sketchy. Plus when he dropped me off at my apartment he gave me a whole speech about going on a business trip for an uncertain amount of time and how much he’d miss me, sappy shit to cover up the real issue. Don't think it gets more certain than that."

Stark nodded, placing the paper in a folder on top of his desk before tucking it into one of the many filing cabinets behind it, "I'll have someone check it out, snap some pictures. You know, the usual routine."

Rose nodded again, drifting her eyes to her coffee, an unsettling amount of guilt burrowing her chest. She pounded the rest of her coffee down, needing the buzz of caffeine to distract her from thinking of the intrusive thoughts brewing at the back of her mind.

This is her job. To catch criminals like him. Like them. No strings attached, just pure acting and faking it till she made it to her goal. She had to keep chanting it to make it stick, forcing the thoughts back into the dark.

Tony's concerned expression came into her view, distracting her train of thought, "You alright there sunshine? You’ve gone a bit pale if that’s possible."

Rose sighed, rubbing a hand over her face, "I think I need to get back on the road again, I feel caged being stuck around these guys. They’re draining and piss me off more. Let me investigate Rogers. That way I get myself out of Brooklyn for some time but still keep an eye on him at least. I doubt Barnes will go anywhere, not without trying to get to me first. Just let me do something, Chief. Please."

She knew Natasha would be pissed at her again, abandoning her word on coming back to her old schedule. She could deal with her pissy tantrum later, she wanted this small relief. Like a caged circus animal, once used to the wild, now begging to run on the grass, even for a mere few seconds.

Tony immediately shook his head, fingers anxiously scratching at the thin facial hair that lined his chin and upper lip, "Absolutely not, it's too dangerous.”

She gave him a deadpan stare, "How is this any different from what I've done in the past? I’ve gotten knocked out, broken bones, hell I even got shot a few times. Trust me I’m a big girl, I can handle a little shadowing without issue."

“That’s exactly my point, you’re better off here. You need to distance yourself from Rogers and get closer to Barnes. Give me something, anything with him because you’ve given me nothing but a distribution list and to be frank that’s nowhere near enough to prosecute shit.” Tony refused to look at her, hiding the true reason he wouldn’t let her go. This was too personal for him to give it to anyone but himself and he didn’t want to admit it was because he worried for her safety. He knew these men more than he was letting on. But she didn't know that. Not now, not ever if possible.

Rose gritted her teeth at the insult to her ego, she wasn’t used to disappointing Stark while on a case as important as this one and certainly not with her level of experience, “I’m trying my best alright? Don’t forget I’m playing two different people here. I can’t be in two places at once. The minute either of them find out I’m the same person it’ll start a full on possession war between them and then what? Oh yeah, we’re fucked. Now give me the real reason you won’t let me investigate this and don't bullshit me on this. You've been fidgety and paranoid since I handed that list to you.”

Tony was almost to his limit with her bullshit, chewing at his bottom lip till he tasted the iron substance on his tongue, "Because I said no Rose. End of story."

Rose was begging almost on her hands and knees at this point, "Chief pl-"

Tony threw the coffee mug he was holding against the back wall, coffee and glass splattering everywhere, "For once in your fucking life will you listen and do what you're told?"

That shook Rose almost as far as her core. Stark had never acted out that way towards her or anyone for that matter before even with her constant annoyances. This side of him frightened her, her body shaking from the panic that rose from the archives of her body. Something that hasn’t been around since she was a child.

Rose sat there in stunned silence as Stark breathed heavily, head hung low in shame and boiling rage, “Just go Rose. Please.”

She gave a simple nod, trying not to let her body collapse beneath her as she walked out of the office. The commotion had echoed throughout the whole building, turning everyone’s eyes towards her hunched figure as she made it to the main floor. Their eyes burned holes in her, building scenarios that could've led to such an outrage from the composed chief. Especially towards his star detective.

Martin saw how she shrunk within herself, holding onto her arms anxiously as she walked by silently. He's only seen her like this when she first came into vice, shiny and untouched like a newly released action figure. Now that simply wouldn’t do for him though, he wanted to make her squirm.

“Awh did daddy yell at his babygirl? You gonna go cry to one of your boy toys about it? Maybe they’ll fuck you better if you ask nicely.”

Rose didn't say anything sarcastic back to his nasty remark. She didn’t say anything at all. Not even an eye in his direction. She breezed through him as if he was a leaf blowing in the wind beside her. Her mind reminiscing in the old emotions that began to pick at her, bringing back memories she wanted to keep locked up for the rest of eternity.

"Don't look at me like that sweetheart you know you did wrong. You know you should've listened like a good fucking girl but what did you do? What the fuck did you do Rose?!"

Stark held the same anger as her dad did that day. The day she left the house without permission to go play with a new friend she had made at school that day. One of the few people who weren't aware of her home life and was allowed to play with her. But like the others, that didn't last long. No one wanted to play with the girl who was in a broken home with parents who cared more about their next fix than their child. Where violence was a form of love and the shattering of glass was music. Who would allow their child to be around that life. No one.

Rose's senses dimmed from her emotional state, barely feeling the watchful eyes target her as she left the building, following her every step around the bustling city. She finally noticed something was off when she stopped at one of the crosswalks. The air had shifted to a heavy dread. She felt the culprit lurking quietly around every corner she turned, hidden in shadows and alleyways. If she wasn't used to being followed from past cases she'd be paranoid to the point of a breakdown by now. It was an expectation while in the field. What Rose didn't expect was to find Sam Wilson lounging on her couch with a glass of scotch when she entered her apartment.

She had her .38 revolver pointed towards the shadowed figure on the couch within seconds of hearing the ice clink. Her finger toyed with the trigger, hearing the satisfying click as she pushed the hammer down. The noise caught the figure’s attention as well, raising their glass in mock surrender.

"No need for the dramatics. Just came for a drink is all."

The figure pulled at the cord of the lamp in the corner beside them, revealing Sam Wilson, eyes in a continuous blank stare as he inspected her.

She lowered the gun, placing it back in the holster under her blouse. She carried whenever the opportunity allowed it. Stark's orders rather than her own. She wasn't trained to fight only to rely on a piece of metal that misfired more than she could count on.

Rose made herself a well deserved drink, nearly spilling the liquid all over the counter as her hands still shook from the incident with Stark. She sipped at the liquid for a moment, helping her nerves calm enough to try to assess the unexpected situation at hand now. If Sam was the one watching her then most likely he saw her come out of the station and tapped into her phone lines like Stark had predicted at the case briefing. God only knows what else he’s messed with in her apartment. Not to mention what he might have already told James.

Irritated at the thought of losing her only sense of privacy and lead in the case, she turned sharply, pounding the rest of the liquor down in a large gulp. Her hand slammed the glass on the counter top earning a less than impressed glance from the intruder, “Let’s cut to the chase, did James send you to spy on me?”

Sam ignored her question, eyes focused back on the amber liquid in the crystal container he held, “Enlighten me Rose, what is a young woman such as yourself doing with a weapon like that?”

She put on a neutral face as she held the urge to tap along the countertop, a clear sign of nervousness, “Protection.”

Sam shook his head, displeased with her response. He stood from his spot on the couch, glass still untouched, approaching her at the counter with a pointed finger, “Statistically, women tend to carry smaller weapons, like pocket knives, pepper spray, nothing lethal. Not unless trained that is. You see, I know a lot of things Rose, and I know for certain that only cops are allowed to carry those guns. So what are you doing with it?”

Rose visibly gulped involuntarily, the hole she had stepped in had gotten bigger beneath her, “It was originally my grandfather’s. He passed it down to me after he retired from the force.”

She wasn’t fully lying, her grandfather did serve but not on the police force. He served in the military, becoming one of the first founders of shield from what she was told. But that’s as much as she was allowed to know. Her grandfather was a very private man, especially when it came to his past.

"That why you became a cop? Follow in his legendary footsteps?" His eyes locked on hers as he sipped on his drink.

Not fully. The real reason was her hatred for the drugs that took over her life. The people who deal it out like a pack of candy, not a care given on the consequences. She couldn't let people like that get away, living the rich life while their customers lost everything, "That's the reason why I never could become a cop, to become like him. That job was his life till he was on his deathbed. I don't want to live that way, no one should."

Sam gave another shake of his head, seeming to be having a mental struggle with himself. He wasn’t happy with the results he was getting from this conversation, he didn’t want to tiptoe anymore, “How do you know Natasha Romanoff? You two seem rather acquainted.”

There was no point in covering that secret up, she knew he had listened to her conversation earlier, “She’s my boss.”

Sam’s brows raised, eyes glazing at the multiple possibilities of her position with the ex-spy, “For?”

Rose clenched her jaw, her fingers aching from her grip along the countertop, “I work at the club when she needs someone. Speaking of which, I need to get my afternoon nap in before it’s too late and I get no sleep for the next 8 hours so if this interrogation is over then you can get the fuck out of my apartment.”

A deep rumble released from Sam’s chest, the closest noise to a laugh she’d probably hear from him, “I see why he wants you so much now.”

“Because he’s a controlling asshole who can’t take no for an answer? Because he can’t accept the fact that someone is happy and he isn’t? The list I assure you goes on for a very long time.”

Sam released another attempt at a chuckle from the venomous sting you leave in your words, “In a way yes. You challenge him to the point it drives him crazy. That sort of feeling becomes addictive to someone like him. Better watch yourself."

"He'll learn to sober up."

Sam had finished his drink by now, delicately placing the glass besides yours on the counter.

"I meant it when I said watch yourself Rose. James is a man you don't want to toy with. He doesn't discriminate against women, Natasha knows that from experience. You don't want to be next."

If that wasn't a threat then Rose didn't know what was, "It's not polite to threaten a woman Mr. Wilson."

"Then it's a good thing you're no ordinary woman."

Rose could see Natasha was on edge when she found her inside the club dressing room, watching protectively from the doorway. It took the impossible to bother Natasha but something had scared her. Or someone.

"He doesn't discriminate against women, Natasha knows that from experience."

Rose could only imagine what he could've done to cause such an effect on her. She struggled to pull away from the image of Natasha getting her face bashed in, blood pooling from her broken nose and eye socket.

The hand on her, rubbed fondly against the top of her thigh as she rested in her companion's lap, enjoying a glass of champagne as she listened to him talk. His sokovian accented voice was pleasant to her ears, complimenting her whenever the chance was given.

"You seem so miserable here, let me take you away my darling. I can cherish you the way you deserve."

Helmut Zemo, a brilliant and very rich nobleman. Known for being the son of Heinrich Zemo, the man who aided the enemy of the war. He was one of Rose's first returning clients, gifting her with many beautiful pieces of jewelry whenever he paid a visit. One of the few she tolerated, dare even say was fond of.

"Oh don't tease me Zemo, it's too cruel." Rose patted a hand on his chest, shifting on his lap as his arm tightened on her.

"You know I don't tease when I'm with you. I mean every word. Please, let me take care of you." Zemo's fingers danced along the sapphire necklace he bought that adorned Rose's neck as he gazed up at her. His eyes held truth and affection.

The offer was more than tempting if not for her morals. To live in a life of luxury and carefree moments filled with expensive drinks and clothes. But he was still a bad man, one who’s had his fair share of crimes and far from who Rose would ever become.

“Zemo-”

The bang of the main door opening startled her, shattering the glass onto the decorative carpet, and the men around her forced the room to go abruptly silent. Eyes followed each other to land on an angry James Barnes. Jaw tensed, fist white and bruised darkly along the knuckles. His face was lined with the same color, traveling from his eye to his cheek.

"What the fuck you all looking at?!" He growled, slamming a fist along the bar counter.

Everyone's attention turned back to their company, not daring to take another glance at the ex super soldier. Rose however remained her eyes on him as he slowly became aware she was among the crowd but he didn't move from his seat. He just stared mindlessly at her. So Rose had an idea. A very dangerous one.

She turned back to Zemo who sat unamused by the angered display, her lips brushing his ear, "Tell me my love, if I agreed to go with you tonight, how would you spoil me?"

She felt him shiver under her touch as she placed kisses along the curve of his neck down to his collarbone. The pulse of his vein quickened beneath her lips,

"First I'd take you back to Sokovia, show you around your new home." His voice was almost completely steady if the edge that laced it didn’t completely give away that he was internally unwinding at her touch.

Her eyes trailed back up to James over Zemo's shoulder as she kissed back up to his ear, "And then? I need a little more convincing than that."

The mindless staring was morphing into possessive jealousy, his breathing had picked up again in an animalistic pant as he watched her challenge him. She was surprised that the glass in his hand hadn’t completely shattered beneath the death grip he held.

Zemo caught the bottom of her chin, pulling her face to line up with his, "And then I'll give you the world. Anything you want you shall have it. My life, my money and myself is yours, just say the words my darling."

Rose was internally screaming. How come it's the bad ones that are so charming?

The sound of a gun clicking next to her head broke her out of the fogged daze that was beginning to consume her, "Over your dead body pal."

There he was in all his glory, the rotten beast she was after. Rose internally smirked at the animalistic dominance he was radiating. His body ready to pounce what he viewed as the weaker link to the mate he desired to have. How calm he appeared but eyes screaming, daring for him to make an attempt at taking her.

Zemo’s composure didn’t falter, calm and collected with a hint of polite sarcasm lacing his tone, "There's no need to be impolite, friend."

The glint of the metal shined out of the corner of her eye. The hand hidden besides her leg was locked and loaded, aimed for James's looming figure. This incident gave him an excuse to kill James Barnes right there. One of the leading men that aided in killing his father during the war. Steve Rogers was more so his main target but he was willing to be a step ahead and take one over nothing right then and there.

Not wanting a mess on everyone's hand, especially her own, she didn’t need another table full of reports to fill out on her hands. So, Rose placed a hand against Zemo's chest grabbing his attention with a soft smile, "It's alright Zemo, I'll see you when you get back from Sokovia."

Zemo nodded in understanding, placing a delicate kiss to the back of her hand as she stood from his lap, "Till then my darling."

Her focus shifted to James, her eyes screaming angrily to follow her and for once he did it with no further complaint, not to her at least. Just a wave of his gun and a snippy comment in a language she wasn’t familiar with. Zemo sent back a hasty response earning only a snicker from James.

The remnants of her glass crunched beneath her heels, the sound tingled her senses, becoming more aware of the man following behind her. How he hovered over her protectively, hiding her from the eyes that dared to follow them. The vibranium hand rested along her back, the cold vibrations traveling up her spine to the back of her head causing a slight chatter on her teeth. How he could deal with the constant hum against him without issue baffled her. Must’ve taken a long time to grow used to.

Rose twirled around in her heels to face him. Never keep your back to a predator, stay calm and watch without eye contact. She held an irritable but playful smirk, noticing he never left more than a foot of room between them, his body towering over her’s, "So why all the fuss? Don't get me wrong, that little show was cute but very unnecessary. All you had to say was please."

His hands dragged up her arms, nails gliding against her skin leaving goosebumps in their path, "It's like coming home from a bad day of work to find your wife fucking the pool boy. I don't like to share my toys."

The sensation brought that emotion she passionately hated back. The one she only had with him. It was desireful, dangerous and greedy. She wanted him to explore the crevices of her but beat the cocky smirk off his face at the same time. Watch him bleed like he did to Natasha, like he wanted to do to the real Rose. A sensational gory battle that she couldn’t win.

Her eyes dared to meet his, uncertainty caving in as her body was reacting to him against her wishes, "Thankfully I'm no toy, especially not yours Mr. Barnes ."

He bit his lip as she rolled his name from her spiteful tongue. He wanted to nip at it till it bled, taste the iron as he devoured every part of her. The thought was both blissful and enraging, "See, that's where you're wrong doll."

He didn’t need to hold her in place as he nudged her nose with his lips, teasing her’s with a simple brush. He knew he had her. She could deny and hide behind a confident cover all she wanted to but he knew the truth. By the way she sensed his presence in the room without needing to look. How captivating he was to her despite his cocky demeanor. How her breath hitched as his teeth dug into her bottom lip while his eyes pierced into her, watching the barrier she built crumble in her hands.

“You’ve been mine since you walked into the room that night and there’s not a single person who will tell me otherwise. You’re caving beneath my touch as we speak. You’ve lost. Now all you have to do is completely give in.”

Rose felt like she was slowly drowning. James’s hands pulling her further and further under the shimmering surface as all the air within her vanished, bubbling above her. Words barely formed as his nips trailed down her collarbone, his hand gripping possessively at her throat, gently squeezing at her quiet response, “Never.”

A dark chuckle left his lips, “But you already have.”

Part 8

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wordtowords · 2 months

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New York and L.A.: Parallel Universes?

parallel universe - noun - a world conceived of as coexisting with and having certain similarities to the known world but different from it in some fundamental way (Google).

In the early 1980s, I knew New York well as I worked and lived in Manhattan. Obviously, over a period of roughly fifty years, it has grown into something other than what it was back then, something indefinable, at least to me. At present, I reside in Los Angeles, nearly 3,000 miles west. Even though I have been a resident for just a week, I can say that these American hubs are the same, only different...parallel universes in a sense.

What are the similarities? For one, there is commonality of origin. Just about everyone I have met here so far either was born in the New York Metro area or arrived here relatively recently, cementing my theory that L.A. is just a suburb of New York, a grouping of cities tied together by freeways at the southern end of the continent, a continuum of vast, uneven topography. To exemplify this observation was a cashier at Target from Brooklyn who actually admitted that he missed the weather in New York; for some unfathomable reason, he was actually mourning the loss of snow shoveling. To which I replied, "The grass is always greener" or in his case, whiter (with snow). Yet only a native New Yorker would complain about the near perfect atmospheric conditions in L.A. Another similarity (other than the recent earthquake in the suburbs of New Jersey, which seemed to come as a gift direct from SoCal) would be the traffic. Most in New York would swear that the traffic is worse here; but for the most part, it is the same, the difference being that there is equivalent volume but fewer roads merging into each other, accounting for the jams. Yet if you migrate here fully prepared for the stop and go, go and stop on the 405 or the101, PCH, etc., it isn't irking at all, well, not terribly so anyway. It is just another test of patience. As for the cost of living, it is pretty much the same albeit the gas is more expensive here (and you will pay a lot for car registration) and the utilities, yet the apartments are cheaper (and much nicer as many come with pools and fitness centers at no extra charge). Some restaurants are not as expensive as New York eateries; however, car washes are twice the price albeit experts will wash your car by hand. Give or take, everything balances out.

Conversely, there are a few noteworthy differences. One monumental dissimilarity would be in the disposition of the inhabitants. Perhaps due to the prevalence of sun, individuals here are kinder, more polite. And like the sun, they shine; their ebullience sparkles. While some envious New Yorkers condemn L.A. congeniality as "fake," it feels pretty real to me. Unlike most New Yorkers, liberal or conservative, people in L.A. seem to take the climate crisis a lot more seriously and work to curb it. For example, the garbage collectors here go through your trash with a fine-tooth comb. If there is something in the circular file that doesn't belong there, you receive a warning and a checklist of what you can or can't include in it. In addition, the DMV requires all gas cars, no matter how new, to go through a smog test for sixty dollars at places that look like they used to be gas stations. Although this has nothing to do with the environment– even though I have been driving for fifty-five years (I started when I was ten...don't ask)–I had to take a written driving test like I did when I was seventeen in Jersey. And it was hard being that it was on nearly one hundred pages of material. Apparently, some of the laws governing the roads here are outside of the norm. In terms of these polarities, balance doesn't come into play.

Parallel or not, the universes known as New York and L.A. will always have their arguable pros and cons. The truth of the matter is that both cities are magical enough to fall in love with at first sight. If you can't afford to live in either, at least you can visit. From what I know, there are about thirty flights going back and forth between the two cities daily. If you book in advance and don't mind flying steerage, you might pay below $300, which is pretty cheap, all things considered. Flights might even be a bit less to either depending upon where you call home in the U.S. Wouldn't it be nice to formulate your own tale of two cities?

#gwynenglishnielsen #spilled thoughts #blog #word to words #personal essay #editorial #blogging #vocabulary #satire #society #writing community #writing #truth #slice of life #los angeles #new york

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ajbwasntwriting · 3 years

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Can I pls request a Bucky x single mom reader? Maybe the kid recognizes him and they bond and then the reader comes and Bucky asks for her number? It’s okay if you don’t wanna write this! No pressure!! Have a great day ❤️❤️

As a child who was raised by a single mother this one was both a challenge and a joy to write. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This takes place like a week before TFATWS

Bucky Barnes x single mom! Reader

Tags: Fluffiest Fluff, mild ptsd and anxiety, Oranges.

Getting used to the modern world wasn’t that much of a struggle for Bucky, but the civilian modern world was a different situation. He still felt himself looking over his shoulder as he walked. He had locks on all of his windows and a sliding bolt on his front door. He had three phones, a burner he showed his therapist, a smartphone for keeping track of the news and talking to friends, and a third one that was exclusively for communicating with Wakanda. The last of which was a mixture of conversations with Ayo and memes from Shuri.

His therapist was pushing him to make friends and to try online dating. She later told him to ‘play tourist’ and explore what his locality had to offer. Something about it possibly introducing him to new people and at the very least ‘make you more interesting’.

So every week he went to a different place. He started with the Brooklyn Museum, having gone there for field trips as a kid. It was definitely more interesting now as an adult. The next place was the Brooklyn Flea, where he managed to get a record player and some records from when he was a teenager. He smiled fondly as the old tune played through his apartment, bringing back memories of flirting with pretty girls at the soda fountain and beating up bullies with Steve (Well, FOR steve at this time)

This is what lead him to be out in Brooklyn Park’s Harbour View Lawn on a Thursday Evening. They had this event called ‘Movies with a view’ that they did in the summer. The idea of being alone in a crowd of picnic-goers didn’t seem that appealing, but when he saw they were playing the original Dumbo, the same one he took his little sister Rebecca to see when he was 16 years old, he couldn’t pass up seeing the animated masterpiece on the big screen. Besides, if he got too uncomfortable no one would bat an eye to a man leaving an open-air venue.

He put some snacks, a drink, and a book(One of the ‘Lord of the rings’ series as he had been catching up)in his backpack and set out. He arrived early so he could sit on one of the benches. People from all walks of life arrived around him. Families both young and old, older couples searching for nostalgia, lovers looking longingly at each other, groups of friends looking to fill an evening, and so many children. The lawn had filled up so rapidly as people descended onto the grass, laying out their blankets and pulling out picnics they had prepared at home and purchased moments before from their favorite grocers. There was an undeniable excitement in the air as the sun was setting. Despite the fact it was the people watching that had him caught up, Bucky hadn’t noticed the small child walking up to him until she was less than a foot away from him, staring at him with big e/c eyes.

She wore a summer dress with a cardigan protecting her shoulders from the sun. Her hair was pushed back in a hairband. She was holding a yellow teddy bear that wore a silver t-shirt and a red cape and had gone limp from a combination of lost stuffing and age.

“Hi,” Bucky said, clearly uncomfortable. “Are you okay?” She walked up and sat next to him. He shifted away from her slightly, aware that this may look odd to any by-passers.

“I know who you are.” The little girl whispered to him.

“Do you?” Bucky asked, trying to remain calm. It was just a little kid, but she was freaking him out a little bit. For all he knew, this small child could be a member of some new black widow program. She smiled widely, revealing she was missing a front tooth.

“You’re Captain America’s best friend!” she half-whispered, half-squeaked in excitement. “Me and my brother saw you at the museum!”

Bucky couldn’t help the nervous laughter that came out of him. He felt himself relax at the kid’s excitement. “You saw me at the museum?” he faked intrigue. He knew there was a display on him in every Captain America museum.

Her hair bounced as she nodded. “There was a big picture on the glass and it said that you were dead, but my brother said you weren’t dead. And I thought he was being stupid, cause,” She looked around and then leaned in a little closer as if telling Bucky a secret “He can be really stupid. He didn’t even know how to tie his shoelaces until he was ten! But I’ve known how to tie my shoelaces since I was six!” She boasted.

“That’s amazing. since you were six? How old are you now?”

“I’m seven and three quarters.”

“Wow, you’re a big girl.” She nodded with a ‘yep’. “But you’re not big enough to be on your own, kiddo-”

“I’m not on my own, I’m with you.” She interrupted him. Following the trend of interruptions, a boy ran up to the two of them, holding a picnic blanket in his arms. He wore blue board shorts with a Captain America t-shirt and Iron man themed sneakers.

“Y/D/N what are you doing?! Mom is looking for you!” He yelled at the little girl. The two looked remarkably similar to each other.

“Look!” she ordered, pointing at Bucky. The boy looked at Bucky and his mouth dropped open, looking like a fish. Bucky wanted to laugh at how cartoonish it looked.

“You’re Captain America’s best friend.” He exclaimed though he couldn’t be heard that well over the chatter of people settling down and the movie being set up. “I knew that you weren’t dead, even before you were fighting Iron Man in Germany. That was so cool, Iron man was all pew pew and Spiderman was all thwish twish and you were in the middle all pow pow” The blanket had since fallen to the ground as the young boy got caught in his excitement and started recreating the movements with the sound effects, punching the air for Bucky’s punches, waving his arms around wildly for Wanda’s magic. Y/D/N looked on bored as he continued his display “and when the dust cleared you and Cap were gone, like dust in the wind.” He recounted epically, waving his fingers in a sideways motion.

“I told you he was stupid.” The little girl commented.

“You’re stupid!” he shot back. Before anything could escalate, Bucky gently put his arms between the children.

“Hey now, let’s not fight. If I have to call the Avengers they’re gonna be mad.” Bucky spoke. He really hoped this would work, and that they wouldn’t continue to fight in hopes of bringing the Avengers down to Harbour View Lawn. The movie started then, music playing out over the crowd rendering the crowd quiet.

“Mom is gonna be worried.” The boy stressed out loud

“What’s your name, son?” Bucky spoke to the boy

“Y/S/N.”

“Okay, Y/S/N. Here’s what we’re gonna do. Spread that blanket there.” Bucky motioned to the empty patch just a step in front of the bench he was sitting on. “and you two will stay here while I go tell the event people that you can’t find your mom.” The two kids spread out the blanket and sat on it. Bucky passed them his backpack and asked them to take care of it so they wouldn’t runoff. He found an event organizer and told them the situation, describing the kids. He returned shortly, the two kids not having moved as the movie played on a screen in front of the open water. He sat back down on the bench just behind the kids, paying more attention to them than the film.

“I’m hungry,” Y/D/N complained.

“That’s what you get for running off.” Y/S/N shot back at her.

“Do you like oranges?” Bucky spoke up behind them. Y/D/N nearly launched off the blanket as she yelped ‘yeah’ back at the man, twirling to look at him. He opened his bag and pulled out his orange, passing it to the little girl. Unprompted, the little girl asked her brother if he wanted half, which he happily accepted. “Sorry I don’t have another.”

“It’s okay, we share all the time,” Y/S/N explained, shoving an orange slice into his mouth.

You are a good ten minutes into the movie when a panicked woman is lead over to them by an event organizer. She runs to them, falling to her knees as she scoops them into a hug. “Oh, my babies.” She sobbed. “You scared me so much.”

“Mooom!” The boy groaned.

She rapidly thanked Bucky and the event organizer, who took their leave once they were reassured that the situation had been handled. “You are both in so much trouble!”

“Can we be in trouble after the movie?” The girl asked.

You were about to order them to get up and leave when Bucky spoke up. “I’ve been able to keep a good eye on them from up here, and there’s plenty of space.”

The joint chorus of ‘pleases’ from your two kids won you over. You sat down next to the man. You two could barely see each other in the dark, but he seemed nice. After all, he had reunited you with your kids.

“Thanks again for keeping an eye on them.” You whispered. “I hope they didn’t give your group too much trouble.”

“No,” he answered quietly “They’re good kids.”

“Not good enough,” you muttered. “They’re excitable, but that just means it’s never boring.” Bucky watched as Y/D/N turned around and pulled a full net of oranges out of your bag.

Watching the movie with company was definitely better. A comfortable silence fell among the four of you, only broken when you had offered him a couple of the bite-sized chocolate bars you had brought. The kids laughed at the movie, your little girl even cheering on the animated elephant. She threw her hands up in a cheer when he successfully took flight, making the two adults chuckle.

“Told you they were excitable.” You giggled.

“Me and my little sister were worse when he first saw Dumbo.” Bucky admitted. “We were on the edge of our seats the whole movie.”

“How else can you enjoy a movie!” you posed the rhetorical question.

Bucky had to admit he thought you were lovely. Just enough seriousness and playfulness rolled into one. So when the lights came on at the end of the movie and he saw how beautiful you were he felt his heart race a little. You were already cleaning up while your children told you how great the movie was. He gathered his stuff and went to slip out when Y/D/N called out to him.

“Where are you going?”

“The nice man probably has places to be-” you began to lightly chastise the girl when you finally saw who you had been sitting next to throughout the movie. “You’re…”

Bucky held his breath. It was one thing the kid’s thinking he was amazing; you were a grown adult. Someone that possibly knew of his history and most likely thought ill of him. He waited for you to say his old mantal, possibly with fear or anger. Instead, you smiled gently,

“James Barnes.” You spoke. A moment later you flustered slightly. “I’m sorry. I work at the Museum of the City in East Harlem. We just did a big-” you stopped yourself before you could ramble onwards. “I’m Y/N L/N.”

It was a breath of fresh air to have someone react to him in such a…human way. “Please, call me Bucky.” He smiled warmly as he fixed his bag on his shoulder. “Can I walk you out?”

After your section was cleaned up the four of you walked out, with the two kids walking ahead of you. Despite how late it was, they still had energy. You had been left to take care of your daughter’s stuffed toy while she chased your son around the park space. “What you said about your sister,” you started, trying to keep an eye on your two kids despite how eye-catching the man beside you was. “I’m guessing that was back in the forties?”

“Yeah. Me and my little sister Becca went to see it. Me and Steve took her to see Snow White and since then we’d see all the cartoon movies. Every time we’d run home and beg our parents for extra allowance and bunk off school so we could see it before the other kids.”

“Captain America and the Winter Soldier…loved Disney movies.” You chuckled. “It sounds like some click-bait title.”

“We didn’t even have to beg that much, looking back,” Bucky recalled, shaking his head. The memories of Steve having an asthma attack outside the theatre because they’d run so fast to get there in time. Becca would pull him in by his shirt while he was still wheezing so she wouldn’t miss the opening cartoons.

“According to the display, you two were quite the pair.” You replied. “They were probably just happy to have you off the street and not causing trouble.”

Speaking of trouble, your two kids came bounding towards you with an angry swan on their heels. “Mommy!” Your little girl shrieked. The swan had given up its chase but the two still charged, Y/D/N colliding right into you and Y/S/N going behind Bucky to use him as a shield.

“I think that’s enough wondering for today.” You passively suggested. Y/S/N agreed as Bucky put his arm around the young boy and keeping it there as you walked and talked. You came to the exit of the park. “I’m this way,” you said.

“I’m the other way,” Bucky admitted. The two kids said goodbye to Bucky, clearly sad to be parting. You thanked him again for what he had done and turned to go with your own goodbye. “Before you go,” Bucky stopped you. “Could I get your number?”

You were instantly shocked. Your mouth opened and closed limply for a moment. “Are you sure?”

Bucky was slightly taken aback at that question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I have two kids?” You said, almost sounding like a question.

“He knows that, mom.” Your son groaned. He looked absolutely bored; your daughter had newfound excitement.

“And I’d like to get to know more about you,” Bucky spoke. You chuckled nervously, looking away for a moment as you felt your cheeks flush then looked back to the tall man.

“I’d like that too.” You confessed, stepping forward. “Gimme your phone and I’ll put it in.”

Without a second thought, he pulled out his smartphone and watched you put your phone number in. “All setup.” You passed the phone back with a smile.

To say the two of you were riding on cloud 9 for the rest of the night would be an understatement.

#mcu bucky #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #mcu bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes #mcu x reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f reader #bucky fluff #mcu reader insert #reader insert #fem!reader #fem!reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x fem!reader #tfatws #tfatws fanfic #tfatws fanfiction #becca barnes

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royalynx · 3 years

Photo

( * 💀 / daniel ezra, cis male, he/him ) — is that kingsley shacklebolt i just saw rushing down the corridor? i hear they’re a twenty two year old gryffindor, returning for their seventh school year, but their friends would tell you that they are grounded & commanding as well as opinionated & strong-willed. if you want to know more about them, i guess i could tell you that they’re pureblood, and from what i hear, they’re currently allying with the order. when our divination professor looks into their crystal ball, they see: the calming presence in the back of the room, muggle records hidden in drawers, steaming mugs of tea, the warmth of a hug, the burn of quiet fury.

CHARACTER INSPIRATION: Luke Cage (Jessica Jones), Kingsley Shacklebolt (Books: Order of the Phoenix through Deathly Hallows), Jake Reilly (Private Practice), Terry Jeffords (Brooklyn Nine-Nine), Alphonso ‘Mack’ Mackenzie (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), Matt Simmons (Criminal Minds), Odafin Tutuola (Law and Order: SVU), Spencer James (All American).

TRIGGER WARNINGS: ???

LINKS: Pinterest (Coming Soon). Playlist (Coming Soon).

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

I N T R O

full name ➵ Kingsley Akiel Shacklebolt

nicknames ➵ King; Kings; Kas; Shack; Shacklebolt; Royal

pronouns ➵ he/him/his

orientation ➵ bisexual biromantic

birthdate / age ➵ May 8th, 1957, 15:32 am / 22 years old

birthplace ➵ Birmingham, England

childhood home ➵ Birmingham, England

current residence ➵ Hogwarts, Scotland

religion ➵ atheist

occupation ➵ full - time student at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

P H Y S I C A L

height ➵ 5 feet, 10 1/2 inches / 179 cm

weight ➵ 78 kg / 171lb

body type ➵ mesomorph ( athletic; generally hard body; well defined muscles; rectangular shaped body; strong; gains muscle easily; gains fat easily )

hair ➵ black, shaved/cropped

eye color ➵ dark brown

dominant hand ➵ ambidextrous

FC ➵ Daniel Ezra

voice ➵ Daniel Ezra

special characteristics ➵

tattoo of a lion on the back of his neck that roars when danger is near

acne scars on cheeks

perfect posture

smells of ➵

broom wax

toothpaste

lavender, anise, basil, bergamot and lemon; geranium, ylang-ylang and jasmine; oakmoss, vetiver, tonka bean, patchouli, vanilla and sandalwood - Brut by Faberge

E M O T I O N A L

zodiac ➵ taurus sun (x); virgo rising; virgo moon

MBTI ➵ ISTJ (“The Logistician”)

positive traits ➵ grounded; commanding; courageous; considerate; observant; dedicated; forbearing to an almost mind-boggling degree; put-together; knowledgeable; self-reliant.

neutral traits ➵ fearless; calming; stolid; diplomatic; paternalistic.

negative traits ➵ opinionated; strong-willed; quiet; stubborn; high-minded; aloof to some; reticent; stoic; overcritical; has very high expectations of himself & others.

likes ➵ playing Quidditch; freshly baked bread; playing Gobstones at 3am; a warm bed; muggle record players; purple; watching the sea; forehead kisses; DADA; organized notes; wearing rings; honeycakes; David Bowie; dragonhide boots; chocolate frogs; firedrakes; Charms; Firewhiskey; watching the fire in the Gryffindor common room; twenty; red wine; laughing with Frank and Alastor; Transfiguration; The Beatles; his sister

dislikes ➵ legilimency; bigotry; raisins in chocolate; Divination; messy desks; foggy London; Sacred 28; people flaking on him; his team losing Quidditch matches; pumpkin juice; using school brooms; sushi; magic quills; pixies; History of Magic; the treatment of squibs by wizarding society; muddy orange; gigglewater; the texture of mushrooms; feeling unsettled; licorice; rollercoasters; toads; the word mudblood; Turkish delight

amortentia ➵

freshly cut grass

roast chicken dinner

aftershave

sandalwood

M A G I C

blood status ➵ pureblood

wand ➵ Alder wood with cherry trailed over the front like the path of a river, or a lightning bolt, White River Monster spine core, 14 and a 1/4 inches, solid

whilst Alder makes for an unyielding wood, its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Of all wand types, alder is best suited to non-verbal spell work, whence comes its reputation for being suitable only for the most advanced witches and wizards. (Cherry, a very rare wand wood creates a wand of strange power, most highly prized by the wizarding students of the school of Mahoutokoro in Japan, where those who own cherry wands have special prestige. The Western wand-purchaser should dispel from their minds any notion that the pink blossom of the living tree makes for a frivolous or merely ornamental wand, for cherry wood often makes a wand that possesses truly lethal power, whatever the core, but if teamed with dragon heartstring, the wand ought never to be teamed with a wizard without exceptional self-control and strength of mind.) The use of a White River Monster spine produced spells of force and elegance.

patronus ➵ Lynx

E D U C A T I O N

Hogwarts class ➵ Gryffindor, 1981

extracurriculars ➵

Gryffindor Prefect / September 1980 - June 1981

Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team / September 1979 - June 1981

Gryffindor Chaser / October 1975 - June 1981

Charms Club / September 1975 - June 1981

Toothill Duelling Club / September 1978 - June 1981

Slug Club / December 1977 - June 1981

courses & exams ➵

Ancient Runes - O

Charms - O

Defense Against the Dark Arts - O

Herbology - O

Arithmancy - O

Muggle Studies - O

Potions - O

Transfiguration - O

Care of Magical Creatures - O

now studying Alchemy ( predicted an O )

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

health ➵

strawberry allergy

pets ➵

Archimedes; the family owl ( great horned owl )

handwriting ➵ Sebastian Bobby

F A M I L Y

Ora Shacklebolt (nee Kayoude) ➵ paternal grandmother; socialite; alive

Kingsley Shacklebolt I ➵ grandfather; Wizengamot member; alive

Yara Audley (nee Idowu) ➵ maternal grandmother; homeschooled; apothecary worker; alive

Akiel Audley ➵ maternal grandfather; homeschooled; Quidditch supply store owner; alive

Alaric Shacklebolt I ➵ father; Gryffindor; Senior Auror for the DMLE; alive

Meera Shacklebolt ➵ mother; homeschooled (opted out of attending Ilvermorny / Hogwarts); apothecary worker; alive

Eralia Audley ➵ maternal aunt; homeschooled; Senior Assistant to the Jamaican Minister of Magic; alive

Gabrielle Shacklebolt ➵ paternal aunt; Hufflepuff; Ministry employee; alive

Edward Shacklebolt (took wife’s name) ➵ paternal uncle; Hufflepuff; job; alive

Khenan Shacklebolt ➵ paternal uncle; Ravenclaw; curse breaker for Gringotts; alive

Kingsley Akiel Shacklebolt (II) ➵ self; Gryffindor; Future Senior Auror for the DMLE; alive

Bianca Omnira Shacklebolt ➵ sister; fifth year Ravenclaw; unknown future; alive

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌

his parents used to say he was born for diplomacy. that’s what they’d drilled into him since he was born: fight the good fight, be honest and good and stay calm, always. they can only catch you off guard when you aren’t. he’d always been somewhat of a natural diplomat — the oldest child, expectations hung from his shoulders as if they were coats and he, a coat rack. he’d always been a quiet child, somewhat unassuming, almost shy, content to play and be alone, often found even as a baby, simply amusing himself with his fist over crying, wailing for attention. when they attended the galas and balls befitting of a family part of the sacred 28, little changed. in fact, he was praised for it — how level-headed he was, even when all he wanted to do was scream and shout and set fire to the curtains by the window to stop them yammering on about the importance of blood purity and their precious, precious privilege, how he smiled politely and shook hands and never, ever made a scene. he hated them. he hated every last one of them. their fake smiles and empty eyes, how they hated for no reason and believed themselves to be superior — a kernel of a fallacy that kingsley, even as a child, could never subscribe to.

but kingsley was nothing if not a good man, and a good son, and so, he stayed silent — at least, to everyone who never crossed the boundaries of their home. to them, kingsley was a young wizard who showed particular promise in their circle, but to those who saw him at home, his internal torture over it was obvious. he had muggle neighbours, even muggle friends, people who made him laugh and gave his parents presents when his beloved baby sister was born, and he could not abide the dual life his parents were living. when they were home, they were tolerant — amused, even, by the muggles they surrounded themselves with, something his mother always said was to keep them grounded, because she’d already lost one sibling to pureblood mania and refused to lose herself, or her husband, or either of her children. when they were at the galas, they were cold, a little aloof, they laughed along with jokes at muggles expenses, they shook hands, ate appetisers, danced and never seemed to show any remorse for the roles they had to play those nights, though he knew they had to feel guilty (he hoped they felt guilty.) he knew they felt they had to do it to survive — to thrive, even, in a world in which they weren’t always welcome, but he hates it.

he loves his family. kingsley loves them with every part of him, loves his younger sister with his entire heart, is never not seen at home without her practically hanging off his ankles, and then his knees, and then his hips, until she’s too tall and too old for that, he loves his mother and relishes her hugs and the way she always knows what to say to make him feel better, he loves his father and that deep, slow river of calm that seems to run through him, the same river kingsley has always felt took root in him, but he hates their legacy. he hates their part in the sacred twenty eight. he hates every part of it. he hates that they agreed to this — to what feels like a mortal lock, an unbreakable vow, tying themselves to this until the end of time. he hates that he understands why — their blood runs pure, he knows, in other wizards standards, but knowing what the sacred twenty eight stands for? what it really represents? kingsley thinks that their blood is the blood that’s dirty, that they’re the ones who ought to be ashamed of themselves for their existence, that they’re the ones who value opulence and power over people’s lives and that makes them wrong and evil and undeserving of their magic. it’s the first time — the only time — his parents have ever seen him truly angry — he remembers it well, being fourteen and all uncontrolled fury for the first time, how the quiet anger had burned and swelled under his skin until he couldn’t hold it in anymore, and how he’d made all the glass windows in the dining room shatter, the glass raining like sand when his father waved it away with a swish of his wand, kingsley’s chest heaving as he yells, raging against their indifference, feeling oddly soothed when his mother pulls him into his arms and whispers that she’s sorry. she’s sorry. she knows, she knows. he wishes that were enough — that apology, that acknowledgement that they were — are — hypocrites.

even still, his love for his family, flaws and all, remains, though he’s slowly pulled back from any engagement with the pureblood world over the years. he’s very proud to be his father’s son — the son of an auror, recipient of the order of merlin second class — and his mother’s. he’s proud to be his sister’s big brother, her protector. he’s even more proud when he gets his letter to hogwarts, confirming what they all already knew — magic is strong in the shacklebolt family. he picks up the family wand, purchased in america in the early 1920s — alder with cherry trailed over the front like the path of a river, or a lightning bolt, white river monster spine core, fourteen and a quarter inches, solid — and he feels a piece of himself slots firmly into place. hogwarts is where his father went, where his father’s father went (over ilvermorny), and though he can no longer pretend to be complacent to their every whim in regards to the sacred twenty eight (something which both his parents have since begun to shun), he knows getting sorted into gryffindor would make them both proud, and that’s what he wants, so that’s what be did — the bat barely touched his head before declaring him a gryffindor. even now, as a twenty two year old seventh year on the brink of graduating into a fully fledged war, he wants to make them proud. he wants to be a pillar of strength, safety, tolerance, love, support, he wants to be the friendly face ushering people to safety, he wants to be the one raining hellfire down on the prejudiced idiots who think that they’re any different to anyone else, with magic or without, on this planet, that they’re superior in any way because of their blood.

#revelio.intro #kingsley;#i hate this graphic #but i am not remaking it bc it took me 50 years to find an image #skdjfnsdkfjnsdf

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musette22 · 3 years

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Hi Minnie!!! Saw you're not having a good day and I want to try to cheer you up. This is my first drabble ever, idk if it's any good (I'm staying on anon in case it's shit 😂), but if it'll make you think about Stucky being in love, even for a second and boost your mood it'll be enough.

Steve and Bucky are lounging on a thick blanket in the grass near the lake in Wakanda, with the sun setting over the water, coloring the sky in purple-pink-yellow hues. Steve lying on his front, head resting on his arms, watching Bucky lay on his back, thinking. Soft smile appears on Bucky's face suddenly. Steve smiles too, "What are you smiling about, punk?" he asks. Bucky closes his eyes, hums and replies "I just remembered you always got sunburn when we were running around Brooklyn in the summer and turned into my little lobster." Steve fakes being insulted, props himself up on his elbows "Barnes, that's outrageous, it was all your fault. You used the sunscreen as a slick when you were horny, I didn't have enough to last me all summer, so don't you be putting that on me." Bucky chuckles, "but it was sooo worth it, admit it, Stevie". Bucky stays silent for a while, pondering. "You don't get sunburnt anymore, instead you become all golden and shiny now, I love it" Bucky buries his face in Steve's shoulder. "And your freckles get darker, your beard turns a bit auburn" a sapy smile "I love it. I love YOU" Bucky whispers into Steve's skin and kisses his freckled shoulder. Steve blushes, hearing Bucky say those words will never get old, he still gets the same rush as he did when he heard them for the first time. "Love you too, Buck, so much." he kisses Bucky softly, turns and rests his head on Bucky's chest, closing his eyes, feeling the sun on his skin, the soft breeze ruffling his hair and his soul mate's heartbeat in his ear.

Nonnie!!! 😭😭😭 You absolute sweetheart! This is so so cute and soft and domestic and I love it so much 🥺💕 “You become all golden and shiny now” - aaaww! And he kisses Steve’s freckled shoulder!!! Omg that’s the cutest thing, wow. Dozing together in the sunshine, just being happy and sappy in each other’s company... That makes my heart all happy and sappy too, thank you so much for this wonderful headcanon, my love ❤️ I appreciate it and you so much!!!!

#lovely people are lovely #stucky #minnie answers #Anonymous #tumblr is eating my replies right now #so have it in the tags again nonnie:#Nonnie!!! 😭😭😭#You absolute sweetheart!#This is so so cute and soft and domestic and I love it so much 🥺💕#'You become all golden and shiny now' - aaaawww!#And he kisses Steve’s freckled shoulder!!!#Omg that’s the cutest thing #Dozing together in the sunshine #just being happy and sappy in each other’s company...#That makes my heart all happy and sappy too #thank you so much for this wonderful headcanon my love #❤️#I appreciate it and you so much!!!!#there we go

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offtopicoverload · 4 years

Text

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold

Poppy messed up. Poppy messed up even if she doesn’t know it yet. But Bea knows it. Bea knows that Poppy messed up really, really bad this time. And Bea’s going to make her pay for ever even thinking about messing with Zoey.

Or, what should have happened at the bacchanalia if MC wasn't so stupid and Zoey was respected and yes im still salty

also didn’t edit as much as normal so there’s definitely issues in this one but whatever

Zoey x MC (Bea Hughes)

~5.5k words

Bea rifles through the false bottom of Poppy’s dresser, searching for her credit cards that can be used against her, finding all sorts of blackmail and dirt to levy against the obnoxious rich girl. Bea eventually spots them buried beneath papers and folders, a phone, hard drives, all kinds of things that no doubt hold enough dirt to destroy Poppy for good.

But Bea’s only here for the cards, she doesn’t have the time to sort through everything right now. She grabs them, her hand knocking against a manila folder as she does. ‘Human Sacrifice’ is written in red sharpie, a paper falling out of the side, with a name at the top.

Bea’s eyes go wide as she reads every letter over and over and over again, every drop of black ink. She rips her phone from her pocket, fumbling to swipe and tap to her contacts and presses call on ‘Zo 😘.’ It rings for a minute, each tone sending panic spiking through Bea.

“Hey, what’s up? How’s it going?” finally rings from the speaker pressed to Bea’s ear.

“Get the fuck out of there,” Bea doesn’t bother with greetings, skipping straight to the point, “Get the fuck out of there right fucking now, Zo, fucking run.”

“Why? What the hell’s going on, Bea?” Zoey sounds on edge, no doubt concerned by Bea’s words and tone. Good.

Bea pulls her phone from her ear, putting it on speaker and opening her camera, “I don’t know, but it’ll be bad, so please leave, Zo, I’m on my way,” she hurriedly snaps pictures of Poppy’s stupid cards to use against her later.

“Okay, I’m seriously freaking out right now, can you please tell me what’s happening before I book it?”

Bea jams the cards and folder back in the false bottom, shoving it closed and struggling to her feet, “You’re Poppy’s ‘Human Sacrifice’ and you seriously need to leave, I’m not fucking around. I have no idea what she has planned but it’ll be bad, I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going, I swear. But are you coming with?”

Bea rushes out of the room, darting for the stairs, “I’m coming now, I’m almost at the stairs and I’ll -”

“Fuck.”

“Zoey?!” Bea shouts into the speaker, not receiving an answer as she sprints down the hallway, tripping to the ground as she rounds a corner, desperate to get there in time.

“Put your hands together for this year’s sacrifice, Zoey Wade!” Poppy’s voice rings through the foyer as Bea slams into the railing, just to find Poppy standing on a makeshift stage to address the crowd and a spotlight on Zoey by the door.

“Bitch!” she swears under her breath, stumbling for the stairs as Poppy continues.

“A little backstory on New Money here. Once upon a time, Zoey grew up in a three bedroom home in… Brooklyn.” Bea can feel the steam coming from her ears as she barrels down the staircase, gripping the railing to keep from falling in her stupidly high heels that she should have never bothered with.

“Three? Where did you keep your clothes? And where was your dog’s room?” Trixie joins, only further enraging Bea with her incompetence.

Zoey's voice rings through the foyer, drawing Bea’s eyes as she stands her ground, “We kept our clothes in the closets and our dog didn’t have his own room. You know, how normal people live.”

“Not these people. I’m sure none of these people’s fathers worked as a banker either,” Poppy taunts, a sadistic smirk on her face.

“Like handling other people’s money?” Luis sounds as if it’s the most insane thing in the world.

The crowd erupts in laughs and jeers just as Bea reaches the end of the obnoxiously long staircase, already shoving through the crowd, elbowing everyone in sight.

“No! He… He was a senior manager! What the hell is wrong with all of you?!” Bea can just barely see Zoey across the room as she dives into the crowd, spotting a line of frat guys blocking Zoey from the door.

“I’m sure it must have been rough for him, working so hard to support you,” Poppy looks at her in fake sympathy. “Though I guess those paychecks weren’t enough to cover everything. Like say… a tube of peach flavored lipgloss? Sparkly pink nail polish? Maybe a pair of cubic zirconia stud earrings?” Poppy asks, feigning innocence or kindness, Bea can’t tell and she doesn’t care anyway.

“Poppy… Don’t,” Bea can barely hear Zoey’s quiet response anymore, can barely see her through the gaps in the crowd, and she hates what she sees. Zoey’s eyes are shining with tears, every muscle in her body tense as she trembles, glued to the spot.

Poppy turns back to the crowd, not even bothering to address her victim anymore, “That’s right, everyone. There’s a thief in our midst. A shoplifter.”

Bea pushes forward even more, jabbing everyone within arm’s reach until Michael grabs her, arms around her waist as he yanks her backwards to prevent her from reaching Zoey. She struggles, squirming and kicking in his grasp, shrieking as his arms tighten around her.

“Bea?!” Zoey’s voice sounds terrifyingly hopeful as she scans the crowd for Bea trapped in Michael’s hold.

“Zo!” she shouts back, pushing her head above the crowd to meet her eyes, just as a projector launches photos behind Poppy on her stage, drawing the entire crowd’s attention.

It’s a younger Zoey in an office, with red eyes and tears still streaming down her cheeks, a mugshot of sorts. Bea squirms even more, elbowing Michael in the ribs, but he still won’t fucking let go.

“Someone lock up the imported silverware!” Chloe’s shriek echoes in the foyer, providing a soundtrack to Bea’s struggles.

She jams her heel into Michael’s thigh, earning a yelp from her captor and pushing up enough to see the heartbroken expression on Zoey’s face, “How did you… Those… Those records were sealed! I never even had to pay a fine!”

“Oh, I know, I know,” Poppy nods with that same ridiculous sympathy again, “You may not have had to pay the price, and how could you have? Considering you clearly didn’t have any money. But this burden will live on with you forever,” her tone quickly turns malicious as she zeroes in on Zoey, “I will never let you forget that this is who you are. That you, Zoey, are a sad, little social climber who had to wait for someone with balls to cling onto to even make it onto our radar. Well, you’ve finally done it. You’re on my radar. Are you happy now?”

“Shut the fuck up, Poppy!” Bea screeches, jamming her heel even further into Michael’s thigh to rise above the crowd and glare at Poppy, flames in her eyes as she attempts to light Poppy on fire.

“Oh, Farmsville. Stupid, naive, little Farmsville,” she gives a saccahrine smile, hauntingly sweet. “Let the sacrifice begin,” she announces into the mic, eyes still trained on a furious Bea.

Zoey screams as tomatoes and wine fly at her, soaking her skin, her hair, her outfit, all of it seemingly coming out of nowhere as the crowd pelts Zoey mercilessly. She ducks her head, covering herself with her arms and backing away, only for the frat boys to shove her back in the spotlight.

“Betcha didn’t see that one coming,” Poppy mouths to Bea, right as Michael finally lets her go, rubbing his thigh and grabbing a tomato from Luis, hurling it at Zoey with a laugh.

And Bea can’t take it anymore, can’t take how powerless he just made her feel, can’t take how disgusting they all are, how cruel and heartless. She can’t take this shit anymore, she can’t deal with it, she can’t stomach it, not when her best friend is being assaulted across the room without her help.

She slugs him in the jaw, sending him reeling and staring at her in shock, but she’s already moving back through the crowd as the tomatoes fly, nearly tripping over people as she hurries as quick as she can. Zoey’s so close to the front door, she almost made it, she was almost safe. If Bea was only a few seconds quicker she could have changed this, she could have fixed this.

Bea shoves through the crowd to reach Zoey, receiving a few elbows to her sides and irritated comments, but she doesn’t stop pushing. She finally sees Zoey through the crowd again, the frat boys guarding the door throwing tomatoes at her without remorse as she cowers, arms raised to protect her head.

She grabs Zoey as soon as she reaches her, arm coiling around her waist and pulling her into her side protectively. Her hands are raised to hide her face as she leans into Bea, a slight whimper escaping her throat as Bea holds her. She pulls Zoey along to the door, shoving through those ridiculous frat boys and stomping on a few feet to do it, tomatoes still pelting them as she yanks the door open. She drags Zoey along, the other girl stiff at her side, arms still raised as they put the sorority house behind them, Bea running until it’s too far in the distance to be a threat.

She slides to a stop on shadowed grass, their heels ruined as she turns to Zoey, still tucked into her side. Her face is blank save for a few tears in her eyes and a quivering bottom lip, her eyes glassy as she stares into space. Bea can feel her body trembling under her arm and concern spikes within her, “Zoey, babe, what can I do to help? What do you need? To go home? I think we went in the wrong direction to our dorm, but we can still go. Do you want to get something off Postmates? Do you want to go and attack Poppy? I got the pictures,” Bea rambles, trying to catch Zoey’s glazed over eyes.

But Zoey doesn’t utter a single word, simply wraps her arms around Bea’s neck and buries her face in her shoulder, a sniffle muffled against her skin. Bea holds her tight, fingers scratching at the small of her back and swaying softly from side to side. She starts humming through random song choruses and verses stuck in her head until she lands on Uptown Funk. It popped up in their playlist earlier, as they did their hair and makeup, and the bathroom exploded in an impromptu performance.

“This hit, that ice cold, Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold. This one for them hood girls, them good girls, straight masterpieces.” She pulls back, Zoey following and glancing up at her from beneath her lashes, the smallest smile on her lips as she watches.

Bea pounces on it, smiling and dancing goofily, jumping around in her heels, “Stylin’, wilin’, livin’ it up in the city.” Zoey laughs softly, Bea’s hands falling to hers and swinging her arms as she moves from side to side, “Got Chucks on with Saint Laurent, gotta kiss myself I’m so pretty. Too hot! Hot damn,” she echoes, “Called a police and a fireman, I’m too hot! Hot damn,” she fans Zoey, who rolls her eyes with a smile.

“Make a dragon wanna retire man, I’m too hot! Hot damn! Say my name, you know who I am, I’m too hot! Hot damn! And my band ‘bout that money, break it down,” she crouches low, pulling Zoey with her, “Girls hit your hallelujah,” she chants low, looking to Zoey expectantly.

Zoey meets her gaze with pursed lips and raised eyebrows, Bea tilting her head as she waits and waits and waits and - “Whoo,” Zoey cheers, Bea’s smile exploding as she launches forward, tackling Zoey in a hug and sending them tumbling to the ground. “Bea!” Zoey exclaims, even though it’s followed by laughter.

“What?” she asks cluelessly, pulling back from the embrace enough to meet Zoey’s dark eyes as she feigns innocence.

Zoey rolls her eyes, “God, you’re such a dork.” But she’s smiling fondly, even with tomato chunks stuck in her hair and dripping from her body. Bea beams wide at her success in cheering her up, her eyes nearly shutting as she just stares at Zoey, who shoves her shoulder, “Dork.”

“Yeah, but you’re smiling,” she singsongs the last word, still grinning down at Zoey beneath her.

Only that smile falls away as soon as it’s mentioned, her head falling back to stare at the sky blankly. Bea wiggles closer, flopping onto her back beside Zoey and staring up at the few stars they can see, her hand slipping in Zoey’s and interlocking their fingers. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Zoey sighs, staring up at the night above them, her thumb brushing along Bea’s knuckles. “I only did it because the group of girls I hung out with in middle school did. They never once got caught, so I thought it’d be okay.”

Bea turns her head to watch Zoey’s shadowed features, “And of course the one time they convinced me to try it with them, I got picked out and searched. Me, the only black girl in the group,” she scowls to the sky. “They all abandoned me there, not even looking back as I got taken with security,” she pauses to glare upwards, and Bea squeezes her hand in the silence. “But after I got off with just a warning, they wanted to keep pretending we were the bestest of friends.”

“I hope you told them you didn’t have time for snakes,” Bea grins, hoping the joke’s enough to lighten the mood, to help Zoey feel better.

“I’ve been dealing with mean girls, girls like Poppy, my entire life,” Zoey looks angry, rightfully so, “I don’t know why I thought for a second Belvoire would be different.”

Bea turns back to the few glimpses of stars they can see in the city, “I know it’s not much, but I’m always here. I’ve got you no matter what, babe.”

“I know,” Zoey whispers to the sky, silence settling between them easily, a familiar presence from study dates and weekends spent collapsed on the couch. From early mornings to late nights when they’re too tired to speak more than a few words, to do anything but smile or squeeze the other’s hand or shoulder. From haunting hours in the middle of the night after awful days to sunrises that promised a second chance, a redemption of sorts.

Bea sits up straight, squeezing Zoey’s hand as she looks down to her, “You wanna go home now? Wash up and get some sleep?”

Zoey nods stiffly, sitting up beside Bea and dropping her head to her shoulder, “Can we order pizza? And breadsticks?”

“We can order the entire pizza place if you want, babe,” she raises their interwoven hands, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Zoey’s.

---

Bea stalks into the courtyard the next day, determination boiling inside her as her gaze locks on Poppy sitting with Chloe and Veronica, tapping away at her phone and drinking a smoothie. She makes a beeline for the witch, fists clenching and jaw tight as she approaches.

She woke up early for this, made calls for this, went to the store for this. She went out of her way for this, and she’s going to relish it, relish the start of her vengeance. She’s not just going to forget what happened last night, she’s not going to move on or accept the revenge from posting trash about Poppy on The T after Zoey had fallen asleep.

She needs more, and she needs to make her suffer, to feel gross and less than, to feel loathed and despised. And Bea knows she can do it, that this is just the start.

She slams her palms on the table, startling Chloe, provoking Veronica to whip out her phone and start recording, and not even earning Poppy’s signature glare, “What do you want, Farmsville? I thought you’d have slunk off to your corn field by now.”

Bea doesn’t even say anything, just grabs Poppy’s smoothie, pulls off the lid and dumps it on her head with a neutral, unbothered expression. The only indication of her rage is the fire still in her eyes from the night before. Poppy cringes under the waterfall, her mouth falling open and arms raising to protect herself, “You are dead, Farmsville!” she screams as the liquid stops falling.

She stands, hovering above Bea in her ridiculously high heels and ruined pompous sweater and skirt. But Bea doesn’t back down, she meets her gaze, she squares her shoulder. She’s from the country, she could take this city bitch no problem.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Poppy spits through gritted teeth, her lips pulled back in a snarl as she glowers at Bea below her. “I will ruin you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Bea spits right back.

Poppy smirks, self-satisfied and disgusting, “I already destroyed your little pet. How come she’s not following you around? Still too mortified to leave your nasty little dorm? Or did she finally realise she’s not cut out for this life? That she belongs in Brooklyn?”

Bea explodes, shoving Poppy backwards and nearly pushing her to the ground, her heels stumbling beneath her and ankles almost collapsing, “Zoey’s off limits!” she shouts, face flushed in her fury. “This was between you and me, not a single other person!”

“Then how come you constantly messed with the Zetas? And Carter?” Poppy counters, regaining her balance and matching Bea’s anger.

“That was different and you know! I didn’t humiliate or harass them, I didn’t fuck with them, I offered them an alternative to her Royal Bitchiness!” Bea gestures at a smoothie-soaked Poppy.

“I don’t see a difference. Besides,” Poppy shrugs, feigning indifference, “Why do you care?” she flicks her hair over her shoulder, “I thought she was just a tool. She’s not even top 15, she doesn’t matter.”

Bea steps right into Poppy’s face, fury flowing off her in waves, “I will ruin you. I will wreck your stupid little reputation, I will crush your pointless popularity, I will make sure that you are nothing but an average, basic, heartless bitch. I’m going to take your crown and give it to someone who deserves it, someone who isn’t mean and cruel and evil. I’m going to make you nothing, Poppy.”

“Yeah? And who’s taking my spot?” Poppy taunts, “You? Midwest trash will never touch first place,” she scoffs.

“No, not me. I’ve sunk to your level and I don’t even care. I’ll make sure someone better than the both of us takes that stupid spot.” She takes a step back, putting some much needed distance between them to prevent herself from punching another person within twenty-four hours. “But until then, I’d watch your back, Pops,” she turns on her heel, striding away. “Go ahead, boys!” she calls without looking back.

A shriek sounds from behind her as Carter and a few of the football and frat guys that most certainly do not include Michael, dump a tub of crushed and mashed tomatoes on top of Poppy, juice soaking her clothes and chunks mixing in with her strawberry blonde locks. “Farmsville!” she shrieks, Bea smirking as she walks to her dorm, not once sparing a glance over her shoulder.

---

Bea sits on her bed, grading papers for Kingsley as Cutiepie lays flopped on his back beside her, his little legs sprawled in the air and his tongue lolling from his mouth, Bea occasionally breaking to scratch his exposed underside. She tosses a paper to the side, pulling up another as her door flies open, slamming into the wall.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Zoey asks, striding into the room and waving her phone crazedly.

Bea glances up, pen pausing above the paper, “I’m… sorry?” her brows knit together.

Zoey huffs, “You dumped a smoothie and tomatoes on Poppy?! In the middle of the courtyard?!”

Bea caps her pen and drops it to the bedspread, smiling as she leans back and props herself up on her hands, “Yep!”

Her amusement isn’t shared, Zoey glaring at her angrily, “Why the hell did you do that?! Are you trying to start a war?!”

“I’m trying to finish one,” her smile’s fallen away as she meets Zoey’s dark, furious eyes.

“Why?! She’s just going to retaliate!”

“Good.”

Zoey gestures wildly, as if she’s the only sane person left in the world, “Why is that good?! What is going on with you?!”

Bea leans forward, her elbows landing on her knees as she meets Zoey’s eyes, her expression stone and tone serious, “She fucked with you. She crossed a line and she’s going to pay. Every time she escalates things, I can, too.”

Zoey’s features soften and her eyes fall shut, a sigh slipping past her lips. She walks to the bed, flopping face first onto the comforter, frozen as Bea sets her papers aside and scoots closer. She pokes Zoey’s shoulder, moving up to poke the side of her face when she doesn’t move, “Zo?” she asks softly.

“You’re really stupid, you know?” she finally says.

“Probably,” Bea concedes, “But why exactly this time?”

Zoey exhales sharply, rolling over to her back and meeting Bea’s eyes, “She’s ruthless. She doesn’t care about you and she’ll do whatever she can. It’s a miracle you’re still here.”

“Then I’m going to take advantage of it,” Bea answers coolly, confidently.

Zoey’s eyes fall shut again and she takes a deep breath before wiggling further onto the bed beside Bea, her arm open for her. And she obliges, falling to her side and dropping her head onto Zoey’s shoulder as an arm tightens around her shoulders, “I know there’s no stopping you, but you’re not allowed to get kicked from school. I’m not putting up with a shitty roommate because you got expelled or quit or something.”

“Okay,” Bea nods.

Zoey continues, “Do you promise you won’t do anything that might impact your stay at Belvoire?”

“Is this a contract? Do I need to get a lawyer?” Bea jokes, smiling against Zoey’s shoulder.

“Bea.” Her voice is stern, “Do you promise or not?”

She raises her head to meet Zoey’s gaze, the jokes falling away she pushes as much earnesty into her eyes as possible, “I promise, Zo. I’m not going anywhere.”

Zoey releases a sigh of relief, “Good,” just as Cutiepie crawls onto her side, flopping on her stomach and the tiniest amused smile quirking her lips. Bea reaches down to scratch his head, picking him up under his arms and pulling him into her grasp. She settles back against Zoey, setting Cutiepie on her chest and scratching behind his ears. He turns, licking at Zoey’s chin as she laughs softly, “Little weirdo.”

“Yeah, but you love him,” Bea grins.

Zoey pauses for a beat, glancing at Bea below her, eyes on Cutiepie, “Yeah, I do.”

---

Papers and plans surround Bea and Zoey on the floor of Bea’s bedroom, the former plotting her next move against Poppy as the latter scrolls her phone, her head on Bea’s shoulder as she works. Bea sorts through her papers, scribbling notes as she scans the pages.

Zoey glances up at her, finding her brow furrowed as she taps her pen on a page, focusing intently. Zoey sighs, sitting up and cupping Bea’s cheek to draw her gaze. She doesn’t give it, fighting to keep her eyes on the mess before her, “Zo, I’m working.”

Zoey’s palm pushes Bea’s face even farther from her paper, and she gives in with a sigh, irritatedly meeting Zoey’s gaze. There’s a crease between her brows and a frown on her lips that makes Zoey smile. Bea rolls her eyes at the quirk in her lips, “What, Zoey?”

She raises her other hand, cupping both sides of Bea’s face and uses her thumbs to lift the corners of her lips, “Turn that frown upside down,” she murmurs softly with a grin.

Bea’s jaw falls open as she stares at Zoey, whose gaze is trained on her lips, fingers still brushing the corners. She swallows thickly, “I, uh, that’s why you interrupted me?” she chokes out through a throat that seems impossibly dry.

Dark eyes finally meet her own, “Yep,” she beams. “But now that I have your attention,” she drawls. Her hands spring from Bea’s face, grabbing her hands as she jumps up, “Movie night!” She drags Bea along before she’s even on her feet, pulling her out of the bedroom and into the common area. She sets her on the couch, pushing down on her shoulders to get her to sit.

“Zo, I need to finish -”

“Nope!” Zoey cuts her off, looking at her sternly, “Movie. Night.” She turns, grabbing the remote and pulling her phone from her pocket. She passes the remote to Bea, giving her a sharp look when she attempts to decline, and pulls up Postmates on her phone.

They spend the night on the couch, ignoring the problem of Poppy, ignoring the plans Bea’s been working on, ignoring their homework and all the assignments Kingsley needs graded. They ignore everything outside of the dorm for the night, gorging on Chinese takeout and watching bad movies that make them laugh until they cry.

---

Bea and Zoey sit at a picnic table on the courtyard, eating burritos and scrolling their phones, occasionally showing each other funny videos and posts. It’s a calm day in the courtyard for once, no events or billboards of hog calling.

Well, it was a calm day, but Poppy’s intent on ruining that. She storms across the courtyard with Chloe hot on her heels, eyes trained on the back of Bea’s head as she sips an iced coffee, laughing at a dog video Zoey just sent her. “Farmsville!” she screams across the space.

Bea glances over her shoulder, shrugging as she spots the fury on Poppy’s face, and turns back to her lunch, still tapping away at her phone. Poppy muffles a scream, striding directly to Bea, “Farmsville!” This time she doesn’t even get a glance.

She stops at the table, grabs Bea’s burrito, and throws it as far as she can, leering down at her. Bea stands meeting her gaze, “What, Poppy?”

“You leaked my credit cards?!” she hisses, snarling like a wild animal.

Bea grins, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bull. I know it was you.”

“Do you now?” Bea asks calmly, reaching for her coffee and taking a long sip, meeting Poppy’s gaze coolly as she does.

“This part of your little vengeance plan for New Money?” she leers at Zoey, still sitting at the table and eating quietly. “Why do you even care about her, Farmsville? I get that she’s a little useful, but she’s still replaceable, just like anyone else,” she scoffs.

Bea slams her drink on the table, startling Poppy briefly as rage immediately takes over features, “Is that what you think Poppy?! That no one but you matters?! You think you’re so important and above everyone else even though you don’t do shit!”

Zoey’s abandoned her lunch now, crossing over to the opposite side and hovering warily behind Bea, close enough to intervene if necessary but far enough to let Bea handle it. It’s part of her plan, after all.

Poppy scans the pair of women before her as if she’s unimpressed, “No need to get so worked up, Farmsville. This never would have happened if you hadn’t picked her. Just find someone that’s not a criminal,” she shrugs.

Bea flies forward in the blink of an eye, tackling Poppy to the ground and towering over her, Zoey shouting behind them in shock, “Bea!”

Before she can do anything, Bea punches Poppy right in the jaw, sending her head flying. She punches once, twice, and is rearing up for a third hit when Zoey’s arms slip around her torso and jerk her backwards, pulling her back as she squirms and fights in her grasp, “Let me go, Zo! Let me fucking go!”

“You’re gonna get expelled!”

“I don’t care!”

Zoey’s lips drop to her ear, “You promised me.”

Bea immediately goes limp in her arms, all the fight knocked out of her in a fraction of a second. “Thank you,” Zoey whispers again, Bea’s feet slipping beneath her body to hold her up.

“You fucking animal!” Poppy shrieks, still sitting on the ground as Chloe pokes at her jaw, only pissing her off even more.

“At least I can admit it!” The fight’s back as she stands properly, slipping out of Zoey’s grasp, even as the other woman attempts to keep her back. “At least I can admit that this is all ridiculous! At least I can admit that it’s pointless and stupid! Can you admit it, Poppy? Can you admit that your precious crown has no worth? That you have no worth?” She stands over the strawberry blonde, staring down at her intently.

“Fuck off, Farmsville,” she scoffs, stumbling to her feet by gripping Chloe’s shoulder and shoving the blonde to the ground. “Run back to your cave with your little felon friend. At some point you’ll realize just how little she matters,” Poppy spits.

Bea meets her gaze easily, jaw clenched tight, “She matters more than you. She matters more than me. She matters more than anybody, and at some point you’ll realize that, when she’s more successful than you, more popular, more wealthy, more respected. You’re a vile creature, and somebody you’ll lose your power and sit sulking as everyone stops caring about you. Because you. Don’t. Matter.”

“Bea, that’s enough,” Zoey slips an arm around her, carefully leading her away, their lunches abandoned. And this time Bea doesn’t resist, doesn’t fight back, doesn’t try to squirm away to fight with Poppy more.

She lets Zoey lead her back to their dorm, sit her at the kitchen counter, and make her a cup of tea. She lets Zoey turn on 90s music as she dances around the kitchen, trying to lighten the mood and resolve some of Bea’s anger. She lets her wrap her in a hug when the music and dancing doesn’t work, let’s her tell her to let it go and move on, to forget about Poppy and all her bullshit.

“I can’t just forget it, Zoey, I can’t let her get away with everything she’s done,” she meets dark eyes, her own shining as she silently pleads for Zoey to understand, to give her permission to carry on this path that will only lead to destruction.

Zoey sighs, her head dipping as she thinks. She looks back up after a minute, meeting Bea’s gaze, “If we’re doing this, we’re being smart about it.”

“I’m doing it, Zo. You’re staying out of this,” her brows knit together, her face serious as her eyes pour into Zoey’s.

“Nuh-uh,” Zoey shakes her head. “You just attacked Poppy. You need me to keep you in check, babe, hate to break it to you,” she smiles teasingly.

“She already -”

Zoey cuts her off, “I don’t care. You promised me you’d stay safe, and clearly you can’t do that on your own, so suck it up and get over it, Bea.” Her words are sharper than she meant them to be, harsher as she stares down the woman across from her.

Bea sighs, her head falling to the counter beneath her arms. “Fine,” comes out muffled against the countertop. “But if she ever throws another tomato at you, I’m killing her on the spot.”

Zoey laughs, “Alright, deal. Luckily, I don’t think tomatoes are her choice weapon,” she grins down at Bea’s hunched form, relief spilling over her at Bea’s acceptance of her plan.

A hand slips in her own, Bea squeezing tight as she weaves their fingers together, “They better not.” Zoey squeezes back, lifting their locked hands to kiss the back of Bea’s, her thumb tracing her knuckles gently.

They miss the rest of their classes that afternoon, Bea plotting intently as Zoey reels her in on the crazier ideas. They order more burritos and watch the chaos of Bea posting Poppy’s cards on The T, all the purchases people made, all the people complaining that the cards were declined, and all of Poppy’s messages urging people to stop and telling them off when they don’t.

It’s amusing, Zoey has to admit, watching Poppy suffer and face backlash, to be the one under the criticism of the Belvoire public, be the one struggling and hurting. It’s nice, to get revenge and not even have to feel an ounce of guilt.

And it’s nice that Bea’s the one that got it for her, the one that decked Poppy in front of dozens of students because she talked trash on Zoey, the one that took tomatoes to the head to help Zoey.

Maybe it’s just Bea that’s nice, Zoey decides as she watches Bea break from her work to grin at Zoey, butterflies whirring in her stomach as she meets that smile, a tornado of fluttering wings whirling in her gut, a sickening but thrilling sensation filling every ounce of her body, an overwhelming but welcome presence. Yeah. That’s it; it’s just Bea that’s nice.

#choices fanfic #queen b #zoey wade #zoey x mc #qb revenge #justice for zoey wade 2020 #another zoey from between for real prompts and an aurora fic #longer this time #im iffy on this one but wanted to post

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sunmoonandeddie · 5 years

Text

thanks for the memories

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,002

summary: Bucky’s lived a long life.

warnings: Some h*ckin’ words. Angst with a happy ending.

a/n: So like. This is kinda short. At least it feels like it is. It’s also an idea from that fake fic ask meme I did. But I cried writing this. Let me know what you think!

Bucky took a deep breath as he came to a stop. The trek became harder and harder to make every week, but nothing short of death could stop him from coming. A bouquet of red roses hung from his hand. The same flowers he brought every time.

“Hi, angel,” he said, his voice cracking. It was the first time he’d spoken in a few days.

After all, his children and his friends were dead. He didn’t have the energy to make friends with the new members of the Avengers or anyone else. The most human interaction he got nowadays was when his grandkids called once a week to catch up.

But there was no one he wanted to talk to except for you.

It frustrated him, that he didn’t have the strength to make it more than once a week anymore. He used to come every day. Sometimes more. It was his favorite place in the world.

It had concerned Sam when he was still alive. But he didn’t know you. He didn’t understand like Steve had before he’d died.

And now here he was, finally catching up with all of his loved ones. His skin had wrinkled, his hearing had partially gone. His bones ached with every step he took.

The head stone in front of him didn’t give him an answer, but it didn’t need to. He could feel your presence even just standing here. It was the only place the voices in his head went quiet and he could just be.

Knowing that it would be a pain to get up later, he eased himself down onto the soft grass. His joints creaked painfully as he moved to rest against the head stone. Running his fingers across the weathered stone, he read your name out loud. “You know, I’m still mad that they didn’t give you my last name,” he said with a faint chuckle. “But I guess the government doesn’t recognize elopements in Austria.” The early winter wind brought a chill with it that went straight to his bones. Seasons nowadays just weren’t like they used to be. “Doesn’t matter. You’re still Mrs. Barnes to me.”

If he focused enough, he could picture you sitting next to him. You’d have that pretty green dress that you’d worn for him when all the soldiers and nurses got to go out dancing. Your hair had been perfectly curled, left unpinned for once. It was nice to see you out of your uniform.

“I wish you were here,” he said, tears springing to his eyes. “I feel so alone. Stevie’s gone, Sam’s gone. Nat’s gone.” He picked at one of the roses in the bouquet, tearing off the petals absentmindedly. “Even the kids are gone.”

His beautiful children. He’d never dated another woman, never got married. But after he’d retired as an active member of the Avengers and took on a position as a trainer, he’d finally gotten to settle down. The questions about his mental stability had been answered, and he’d been declared fit to raise a child.

It was then that he adopted Brienne, Alexei, Poppy, Mateo, and Eliza. His little war orphans. There’d been more that he’d fostered, giving them a home until they found their forever family.

It had been years since they’d died, leaving him with five more permanent holes in his heart.

Their children, his grandchildren, had all scattered around the globe, chasing their dreams and settling down. They all called at least once a week, visiting several times a year, but still.

“Sometimes I wish I’d never gotten that stupid serum,” he said as he looked out over the head stones that surrounded him.

He’d had to fight to have you buried in Brooklyn. You were originally buried in your hometown, but your family had agreed to have you moved to the city after he’d explained the situation to them. You were buried with the rest of the Barnes. His mother and father were buried in the plot to your left, and his sister, Rebecca, was buried in the plot to your right.

And when he died, he’d be buried right next to you as your husband.

“I keep asking myself why I survived the serum and you didn’t,” he murmured, his clouded blue eyes drifting up to the dreary September sky. You always did love the rain. You told him it brought new beginnings. It washed away the wrongs from before. “I think the only reason I’ve lived this long is for our kids. So I could find them and take care of them. Give them a home just like we always wanted to.”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, angel?” He was sitting in a dirty cell with twenty other men, but he was only paying attention to you. You were being held in the cage right next to his, and the bars were far enough apart that he could slip his hand through to hold your hand. His thumb brushed over the little band on your left hand ring finger. It was covered in dirt and grime from being stuck in this prison for who knows how long now, the diamond unable to shine.

You hated it. You hated that your ring was dirty. And sure, it wasn’t much. Bucky had never had a lot of money, and he’d spent what he had on this little ring at a jewelry store in Vienna when they’d passed through a few months before.

It was there in Vienna that you two had found a little chapel and officially became a married couple, despite your families not being there and the priest not understanding English. Dum Dum ended up translating for them, and they’d left the church as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes.

“There’s gonna be a lot of kids without families after this,” you whispered, a melancholy in your voice that he only heard when you two were alone. You didn’t like the men seeing you upset, said it wasn’t fitting of a nurse. I’m supposed to be the one making all y’all feel better, Bucky, you’d said months ago when he’d asked why. The other men in the cell were asleep, and you’d finally been able to let down your mask.

He hummed, leaning his head against the cold bars, trying to get as close to you as possible. The sweet smell of your shampoo was long gone. “Yeah.”

“Can we… I think…” You swallowed as you tried to find the right words. “When you bring me home to Brooklyn, can we adopt a bunch of them?”

“Yeah?” He said, sitting up a little straighter as a smile tugged at his lips. The first in days. “You wanna have a bunch of little babies runnin’ around?”

And your smile was so sweet and so real that his heart just melted. “Wanna have a family with you, Buck.” You reached up to run your fingers through his greasy hair. “We’ll have a little house with a big yard and a porch, so we can watch all of ‘em run around. And I’ll finally get to meet Steve, and we’ll have him over for dinner every week.”

His heart swelled as the picture formed in his mind. He could see it so clearly. It was so close but so far away.

You two just had to survive this damn war.

“I’ll give you all the little babies you want,” he said with a warm smile. “We’ll singlehandedly raise all of Europe’s war orphans.”

The two of you froze as you heard the door opening. There were several sets of footsteps and the jingling of keys, and he knew what was about to happen next.

He could only hope that they were there for him this time, and not you.

“No… No, no, no,” you whimpered as you clutched onto his hand tighter than before. You were still so weak from when they’d taken you for the experiments the day before, and you knew it was only a matter of time before they came for Bucky again, but you just wanted to scream and kick and fight until they left him alone.

He’d already gone through the injections twice before you even went once. You’d seen how he’d changed. He’d come back bigger, more muscular. He healed quicker from the little scratches that came from sleeping on a concrete floor. He didn’t require as much food and water as before.

You, however… You just seemed to get weaker and weaker with each injection. No matter how much of his food that he gave you, it didn’t seem to help.

The group of men appeared before you, unlocking the cell to reach in and grab him. He didn’t bother to fight them, knowing that they would only threaten you to get him to comply.

But you clung to his hand, screaming at the men as you tried to hang on. The other soldiers were waking to your protests, growing more alert as they realized what was happening.

“LET HIM GO!” You shouted at them, your throat growing hoarse. Tears streamed down your cheeks, revealing your skin underneath the dirt that covered you. “STOP IT!”

If Bucky wasn’t so terrified of what was at the end of the hall, he would wax poetic about how you were still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen even while sobbing your eyes out.

The cry you let out when his hand was torn from yours was so guttural and raw it made several of the men flinch back. You were standing on shaky legs, your knees threatening to buckle the longer that you stood. Your arm was reaching through the spaces between the bars despite the fact that he was way out of reach and almost out of sight. “BUCKY!”

He kept trying to look back at you, wanting to savor the image of you so that he could keep it in his mind until this round of injections was over. He was happy to see Morita moving to comfort you, helping you back down to the ground to keep you from hurting yourself.

Maybe he’d think of your wedding day instead, and the way you sounded when you told him you loved him.

Yeah. That sounded better than thinking of you crying over him. He’d think of that.

Bucky wasn’t sure how long he’d sat out in the cemetery, drifting in and out of his memories.

He’d lived a long life. A good one, despite the fact that there were some pretty rough chunks.

The only thing that he regretted was that he wasn’t able to do more to help you. He hadn’t been able to stop those HYDRA dicks from injecting you with the serum. It had been too much for your body to handle, a stronger version of what they’d given him. They’d thought that you’d need more as a woman, according to Howard Stark.

Which was just complete bullshit. You were the strongest person he’d ever met.

He hadn’t been allowed to go home with your body. He hadn’t gotten to meet anyone from your family until after he’d broken out of HYDRA’s control back in 2014.

And now, over a century later, he was ready to rest.

Truthfully, he’d been ready for rest for a long time, but the serum had kept him from dying.

But he could feel the end coming closer. It was his time.

He didn’t even have the energy to get up and go back to his empty house.

A bit of sun broke through the clouds, warming his face. It was almost like a sign. You were there. You were ready to receive him with open arms.

He leaned his head back against the headstone, shivering as his bald spot rested against the cool marble. “Whenever you want me, angel. I’m ready.”

The next day, Jamie sighed into the phone as she climbed out of her car, heading into the cemetery. “No, he wasn’t at home. I told him I was gonna be coming today. Maybe he forgot.”

As much as she hated to admit it, despite the super soldier serum that had kept him alive so long, her grandfather was growing older. His strength had been the first to go, followed by his hearing. It wouldn’t be too much of a shock if he’d started to lose his memory, too.

God, she hoped not. As much as her grandfather loved her and her siblings and cousins, she knew that his memories of you were what kept him going. His loving wife, torn from him too soon, that wanted to create your own family with him.

And even though none of them had ever gotten to meet you, Jamie’s mom and aunts and uncles all said that you were their mother.

“I’m at the cemetery now,” she said as she headed for the Barnes’s family plots. Her cousin, named after you, was supposed to be coming to visit with her tomorrow. “I don’t—” She broke off as she spotted him, breaking into a run. “Grandpa?!”

Jamie could hear her cousin’s voice shouting through the phone, demanding to know what was going on, but she let it fall to the ground as she sank to her knees.

James Buchanan Barnes was dead at two hundred and fourteen years old.

He was resting peacefully against your head stone, the red roses he always brought hanging limply from his hand.

He looked… at peace. The tension that had always resided in his shoulders had dissipated.

He was at rest.

“Buck?”

Bucky hummed, his eyes still closed as he began to stir.

A familiar giggle filled the air. “Bucky!”

A giggle he hadn’t heard in almost two centuries.

His limbs felt heavy in the best way as he shifted, the mattress beneath him cool. The sheets twisted around him, keeping him warm without stifling him.

“My love…” A soft touch along his cheek, a caress that he’d dreamt about every night. Dainty fingers that used to be calloused from the hard work of war. “It’s time to wake up.”

Bucky’s eyes slowly fluttered open, the soft light of the room somehow not making him recoil in shock.

“There he is.”

His eyes popped open as he realized that you were leaning over him. The prettiest smile he’d ever seen was painted on your lips. Lips he’d spent hours kissing. “Angel? You’re… You’re…”

You simply nodded, shushing him as you urged him to relax. “I’m here. I’m here. It’s okay.”

“You look just as gorgeous as you did back in forty-three,” he croaked. The smile he was rewarded with warmed him down to his toes, calming his soul in a way he hadn’t felt since the war. He pushed himself up suddenly, blue eyes wide. “There was never anyone else. Only you.”

“I know, I know,” you reassured him, pushing his hair back. “I wouldn’t have been upset with you if there was. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

“Couldn’t ever look at another gal that way,” he said, leaning his forehead against yours. “Not when I’d already found the love of my life. No one could ever compare to you.”

Your laugh was teary as you pressed your lips to his tentatively, almost like you were scared to. “I’ve waited so long for you. I’ve missed you so much.”

Bucky swallowed around the lump in his throat as his fingers threaded through your hair, pulling you in for another searing kiss. Neither of you noticed that you were crying until you tasted the salty tears on your lips. “I’ve missed you, too.” He sniffled. “All I ever wanted to do was make you proud.”

“Silly boy,” you whispered, nose nudging against his. “That’s all you’ve ever done. You gave me children even when I couldn’t be there to help raise them.”

His brows furrowed as he looked around the room, realizing that it was the master bedroom of his house in Brooklyn. It was decorated differently, but definitely still his house. “Is this…”

Nodding, you slipped out of the bed, holding your hand out for him to take. “I’ve been waiting for you here since forty-three.”

He took your hand without hesitation, allowing you to pull him out of the bed and out the bedroom door. A fondness creeped into his smile as he saw the photos lining the halls. Pictures of you and your family, of your children, of him. Never before seen photos of you with the kids.

“Come on, my love,” you said, already two steps down the staircase. Your eyes were bright as you stared up at him. “We’ve got people waiting for us.”

The fourth stair from the bottom still creaked, and it was then that he realized the body he was in. His hands were young again. His muscles didn’t strain with every step. His bones didn’t creak.

He was young again.

“Yes, you have your hair back,” you teased, reading his mind like you always did. Your voice was clear as a bell, the best thing he’d heard in decades.

His heart caught in his throat as you pulled him towards the back door, the sound of voices growing louder. “Are…”

Opening up the back door in the kitchen, you revealed all of his friends and family that he’d lost over the years. Alexei and Eliza were playing a pickup game of football with Sam, Peter, and the Howling Commandos. Steve was manning the grill, chatting with his father and Mateo about who knows what. Natasha was sharing a plate of fresh strawberries with Poppy. Peggy was standing off to the side with his mother, Rebecca, and Brienne like it was just a random Sunday.

There were so many others that he thought he’d lost over the years. Loved ones he never thought he’d see again.

His eyes pricked with fresh tears as your hand slipped into his, squeezing. A reassurance that you were there by his side.

And you’d never leave it again.

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction

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somebodytolovesx · 4 years

Text

National Anthem - Steve Rogers

Summary - Everyone spends Fourth of July weekend at Tony’s home in the Hamptons, Mr America himself is there to celebrate his birthday too.

Author’s Note - I don’t actually think Steve’s birthday is on the Fourth of July but I could not resist this opportunity.

Warnings - Fluff/Alluding to smut.

Fourth of July was celebrated by all of the Avengers at Tony’s home in the Hamptons for the independece of America but for Mr America’s birthday too.

For the weekend, Tony Stark’s driveway would be taken over by the fast cars of his friends and family and his house would be full of people talking and dancing with each other. It was always a rather larger ordeal at one of the three Stark homes (It normally was on a rotation, where the party would be held each year). There would be the endless music and the ever-flowing bottles of champagne, then the firework display which was to die for as always. On any one of Tony Stark’s Fourth of July weekends, his neighbours would think that he was The Great Gatsby.

Some of the cars had already arrived by five O’clock in the driveway like they would annually with three spaces spare, one of them for Steve Rogers who had driven from Brooklyn with his sweet, little Y/N sat next to him in the sleek, black Audi. Bucky Barnes was in the car behind them, following Steve’s directions to the address, he and Natasha, who sat in the passenger seat with her hand on his thigh, were coming together this year for the first time.

***

The front windows were down and the wind was through Y/N’s hair, pushing some of it out of her face sparing some of the tight curls to blow over her forehead and her Y/E/C eyes that were so electrified by her red lips. Her dress had no wrinkles in it, fit for every curve on her body and sewn with the shade of blue that made her look so gorgeous, as Steve thought.

That morning whilst they were getting ready after their quick birthday rendezvous, she could not stop staring at him. It was like every morning when they woke that Y/N admired how handsome her man was and doted on him but that day, it must have been his extra birthday glow that was making her feel hot.

Before Steve Rogers came along, Y/N was astray from what she needed. She was on a rampage of wining and dining every night with nobody to do it with and no reason to do it at all, her excessive buying of things she used but never needed was some nights it was collateral damage.Other nights, she would be driving with nowhere to go in mind after finishing a bottle of wine to herself. When one leads such a reckless life, she was bound to meet bad people who fed her bad habits but the lines were blurred between the real and the fake so it needn’t matter to Y/N. Before Steve came along, in quite the damsel in distress manner. He pulled her out of all of that and held her up until she could stand for herself and in the process, whether he realised it or not, he fell in love with her and kept her safe in his bell tower for the years that followed until now. Quite the old love story.

Though even Steve Rogers had had his bad habit of running through dates and abandoning them when the women wanted a second date, it was just a cycle that he could not find a way to break, other than to carry on living alone until his time came to enter the pearly white gates.

There was no dates with Y/N until they were together and even then there had been no spoken confirmation of their togetherness, they were just together and grew to love each other quickly; they were holding each other ransom as Bucky Barnes often thought but that did not mean it was awful, he saw that now that the two had found what they had dreamed of finding, they over-dosed themselves on every emotion they could feel with each other, the love, the rage, the sex, the times of tiredness. The love was no surprise to Bucky, Steve was the type that even if he did not like the girl, he would at least romance them and he liked Y/N a lot.

When they parked in front of Tony’s house, Steve held Y/N’s hand tightly so her heels did not give under her feet along the cobblestone and stopped and stood in front of her when she needed to adjust her dress before walking in to the house - which’s doors was wide open for all and any guests.

***

To say that the energy of summer was in all guests would be a lie, there were a couple of guests that Steve and Y/N were briefly familiar with that looked like they were at a business meeting, trying to impress the boss in the top of the tower instead of at a party. For the rest of the party guests that Y/N and Steve knew however, summer was in the air and all around them, they were jovial with their drinks in their hands and talking with their friends and dancing. In a few corners of the room, there were their colleagues making sure to socialise and have themselves a little fun whilst they could.

“Steve, sweet Y/N!” Tony opened his arms to them and hugged Y/N, “Drinks are over there and you know everything else”.

Steve thanked Tony and walked with Y/N over to the bar with his hand on her lower back.

“Oh, going with the red wine?” Steve teased.

“You’ve never known me to drink white” Y/N replied.

“You only drink white when you’re nervous” He said.

“I’d be drinking white wine all day if it was when I was nervous. It’s if I’m with my parents I drink white” Y/N told him.

“So I was right then? When you’re nervous”.

After they replenished themselves on wine, Steve brought Y/N over to Bucky and Natasha who were sticking to themselves; their love story was different in every way to Steve and Y/N’s but when they all went out together, there were never problems with finding something they all wanted to do or something to talk about.

So as the four of them walked around the party together, Steve and Bucky cracked jokes about the guests that they knew secret things about and Natasha reminded them that they’re meant to be the good people in the room, Y/N was amused on the comments they made but told Steve that Natasha was right.

“Why don’t you two go dance? That used to be your past-time right?” Natasha laughed.

“There’s a reason it’s called a past-time, Steve might though?” Bucky squeezed her shoulder.

“I’ll stick to my normal pace” Steve spoke.

The music playing on the stereo that cut out then and there was a crackling in the speakers then a voice, “All Americans, please direct yourselves out to the backyard for our wondrous firework display directed by the lovely Pepper Potts” Of course, it was Tony stood at the top of the staircase clinking his glass.

“And Russians” Natasha yelled up at him.

“And Asgardians” From another corner of the room.

“Get out in the backyard” Tony said into the microphone.

The double doors into the backyard were opened and whoever was standing closest to them exited out first then the people closest to the front door were out on the grass last. The backyard seemed endless and whoever the Stark’s gardener was, was probably kept busy all day - the grass was trimmed in neat rows and vibrant and the sea was below with a few people in it celebrating in their own way. Steve imagined how nice it would be on a Sunday morning to sit out there with Y/N and listen to the waves once they both were retired and done with the worst of the world, maybe with another dog or a few kids too.

***

Steve stood behind Y/N in the middle of the crowd and held her against him with his arm tucked around her waist so she wouldn’t get bashed around by all of the people, she lent her head against his chest and kissed over his shoulder.

“How much do you want to bet that they’ll be red, white and blue?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know if I want to take that bet because I already know” Y/N laughed at him. Steve didn’t know how she knew but he was defeated already, he wanted a fair bet with a fair price.

“I thought I could pull you into a bit of fun”.

“When do you not?”.

When the fireworks went off, they fizzed up into the sky and exploded into a dazzling array of red, silver and blue. They went up in all different shapes and exploded in all different mesmerising ways, they lasted for the best part of an hour. And to even further convey the spirit of Fourth of July, Tony had the National Anthem playing through the speakers whilst the display lasted which had made Natasha mutter something about hating him.

Steve was humming along to the anthem against the back of Y/N’s neck, rubbing over her hips with the backs of his hands.

“Do you mind coming with me afterwards?” Steve muttered.

“This is your birthday, Mr America” Y/N looked back at him. His eyes got more blue the longer she looked at them, she could see the fireworks going off in the reflection of them and enjoyed how she felt with his eyes on her. His eyes lowered over her figure and the smile on his face grew.

“You’ll enjoy it” Steve promised and squeezed his arm around her wist. He gave her a kiss then watched the last fizz of fireworks.

***

It was nearing dark outside and the temperature was dropping slowly but surely, some of the guests with kids or pets to tend too or work the next morning had started to say their goodbyes but not many had left, they wouldn’t start to leave until later in the evening. Especially Bruce and Thor who had made a bet with Tony earlier that week saying that they could easily be Iron Man for the day, they had lost, so in return, had to stay behind to tidy up the bar (The messiest part of the home after one of Tony’s Fourth of July parties).

The other Avengers had had their own plans to be concerned with; Clint was heading back to be with the family, Wanda and Vision were back to their apartment to catch their favourite television programme, Bucky and Nat were leaving at ten, Sam was hanging out till Bucky left because he was his ride and Peter had left already. Steve and Y/N were staying around until ten then they had to leave to get back to the dogs in time. Everyone else was scattered.

Steve and Y/N came into the house when everyone else started too, they agreed the fireworks were as good as last years but wondered if Tony was ever going too change them, Y/N said he should change them so that it’s just Steve’s face, that would be amusing and she was sure that she could twist Tony’s arm enough for him to do it in time for next year.

“Where was it you wanted me to come with you?” Y/N asked with her chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“Just a moment, sweetheart”, he leaned over to Bucky and whispered a few words in his ear that made him have to stifle a laugh.

Natasha eyed Y/N to see if she had any idea to what they were talking about but Y/N had no idea.

“This is the price we pay for dating best friends” Y/N mouthed to her and rolled her eyes. Natasha tipped her head towards her friend and her lips curved into a mischief-ridden smile. The both of them tried to listen in on what Bucky and Steve were saying.

They didn’t hear anything before Steve was finished whispering but they caught what was said afterwards.

“You’ll still be here when we get back?” Steve asked.

“Don’t worry about that, by the time your finished, I’ll still have the same drink in my hand” Bucky laughed.

“I’m sure Nat could say the same about you, Buck. We’ll be back later”.

He squeezed Y/N’s hand and told her to come with him, he was leading them up the staircase of Tony’s house and through one of the doors along the hallway.

The room was dim with the curtains open but the sun setting, it was a large bedroom with a television, a freshly-made bed against one of the walls, it had the serenity in it’s silence that made you feel as if you had just walked into another part of the world.

“Well I can finally lay down” Y/N turned on her feet to face Steve.

“Too tired?” He asked.

“Oh, I’d love to see you walk in heels all day”.

“Yeah?”.

Steve put his lips on hers and kissed her, it felt like they were in their own romance movie but better than that because it was real and Steve was so sweet and gentle with her. It was even dangerous, the way it was when Steve kissed her, she would have done anything he asked in that moment, she could have stood in the way of her worst fears because it was like falling into a pit of gold.

Y/N kicked off her heels and pulled Steve by the collar of his button up shirt, over to the bed.

“Tell me how much you want me Steve” Y/N muttered.

“You already know” He muttered back.

He took Y/N’s hands off his shirt and made her sit down on the edge of the bed, “Well, lay down then”.

Y/N looked up at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something more or do something, he looked back down at her and waited. She laid her back against the duvet and buttoned down the first three buttons of her dress.

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stewyonmolly · 4 years

Note

pretty please ~romantic~ peter and johnny 20? i love your writing!

prompt: a look is worth a thousand words.

this isn’t anything special just some. nfjdndjdnf soft teenagers in love <3

———

Johnny is, simply put, having the best day ever.

His intention had been to swing out for some hipster Brooklyn fro-yo and pass a few hours crashing Peter’s patrol in this lovely spring warmth, but then Peter had said “Let’s eat in Highland Park,” and Johnny, like the yes-man he is while staring at Peter’s stupid crooked smile, agreed.

Thus they find themselves kings of the germy jungle gym, seated on plastic bars that dig into the bones of their asses, shoveling fro-yo into their mouths with almost concerning enthusiasm. The whole park is writhing with energy, kids screaming, sticky-fingered and smiley as they shove each other into the mulch. They ride the swings and go down the slide and toss footballs, but mostly they badger Peter and Johnny, and that is undoubtedly Johnny’s favorite part.

He’s got his spoon wedged into the corner of his mouth now, vanilla melting over his tongue, as a really tiny kid clings to his ankle. Johnny swings his leg lightly, to the kid’s blatant enjoyment. Peter has got a girl who can’t be older than three on his lap, her facing him, her reaching for his ice cream and him holding it as far away from her as he can manage without over-balancing and tumbling them over the edge.

Johnny crushes his empty paper cup, tosses it high into the air, and lights it up to free his hands. He reaches down for the boy clinging to his foot and pulls him into his lap.

Peter really makes this whole balance thing look easy. Johnny, meanwhile, is getting the core workout of a lifetime.

Johnny prods the little boy in the stomach, pulling a shrill giggle out of him. “What’s your name, bud?”

“Aditya,” he says shyly, hiding behind his fringe.

“That name is awesome,” Johnny says. “I’m Johnny Storm.”

“I know you from TV,” Aditya says. “You did Sesame Street.”

Johnny grins, pleased. “I certainly did do Sesame Street. Which is your favorite character?”

“Hm,” says Aditya, head wiggling as he thinks. “Big Bird!”

“You have impeccable taste, my friend. He is absolutely the prime choice. Tell me more about your favorite shows, I need some new recommendations.”

Aditya lights up.

It goes like this for a while, the kids trading out when someone starts crying or a parent decides it’s time to head home. The wind is gentle, all springtime caresses. Johnny can’t wait for the dandelions to start spitting out among the grass. City summers aren’t much more than debilitating heatwaves, and those are nothing to him. Spring, on the other hand, he can enjoy. He can watch the rains and see the trees begin to grow greener; can watch the locals start to shed layers like they’re cracking out of cocoons.

Spring is all about new starts: a thousand-worded stare into something brighter, gentler, and kinder. Johnny is all over that shit.

When Johnny’s last little friend—a girl named Alma with the most enormous brown eyes—leaves for the night, he does a stretch, satisfied, and turns towards Peter, who’s still talking. Chatterbox that he is, he’d talk to the goddamn walls. He must be thrilled to have an audience.

The girl on his lap looks distinctly unimpressed. Johnny likes her immediately.

“Hey,” Peter says, leaning his chin on his palm. His mask starts contorting in this weird way that means he’s wagging his brows as he tells the girl, “You know, I’m a hero. I’m Spider-Man.”

“Who?” the girl asks politely.

Johnny wheezes.

“Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?” Peter tries. “I beat up criminals and keep Queens safe!”

“Queens,” the girl repeats with a wrinkle to her nose.

“Oh my god okay I give up,” Peter says. “Next customer. We’re through. Sorry. This is not an amicable breakup and I’ll be fighting for custody of our dog.”

The girl blinks, shrugs, then slides off his lap to the safety of the jungle gym below.

“You are terrible with children,” Johnny notes. He then leans nearer to Peter and says, “Me next.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Peter warns, lifting his hands in some dumb fake karate pose.

“What if I just want to feel emotionally validated by a brief showering of your affection upon me in public like the youth of Brooklyn on this fine evening?”

“The evening is pretty fine,” Peter acknowledges.

“Other things here are fine too.”

“Mm. That fro-yo was fine. On a scale of mm to eh, it was fine.”

“I was thinking warmer things.”

“This plastic bar is pretty warm from being up my ass for the past two hours.” He pats said bar in appreciation.

Johnny rolls his eyes and gives up. He knows that a thing must be painstakingly, astronomically blatant for Peter to take notice of it, but this is just too much.

He tilts his head back and lets the last lingering rays of evening sun cling to him, little warm tendrils like heat-baked leaves catching him on their way to the ground.

“Torchy,” Peter says.

Johnny hums a little.

“Look at me, you dirty asswipe.”

Johnny scoffs but does.

Peter’s looking at him already with that blank, white-eyed mask stare.

Johnny always wonders what clownery Peter is up to under the mask. Probably looking into the distance like Jim from The Office every five minutes. God, is Johnny Kelly? He doesn’t want to be Kelly. He wants to be Pam.

“What do you want, jerk face?” Johnny says, hoping the lavender light of dusk hides his three-alarm blush.

“Read my lips,” Peter says. Johnny’s stomach flips in anticipation as Peter rolls the mask up to his nose and whispers, “I’ll race you.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

Johnny howls in protest before hopping to his feet on the bars and jumping with a furious, “Flame on!”

He chases Peter back into Queens, the both of them shouting and dodging the assault of the other, and Johnny nurses a delicate champagne-firework feeling in his stomach. He could fly without flames, he’d wager.

When Peter stops himself on the awning over a bakery door, the whole thing taut with his weight, Johnny swerves to meet him. He makes his way aboard clumsily, the poles holding the fabric starting to squeak, but he sits anyhow. If it doesn’t hold them, it was never meant to be.

The streets are barren despite the good weather. It smells vaguely like custard and yeast and berries beneath the lingering eau de street-piss and gutter-beer. It’s a perfect night.

Johnny peers over at Peter and presses their shoulders together.

The mask pulls like he’s smiling. Johnny’s eyes catch on it.

Peter rolls the mask up again. “What’re you looking at me like that for?”

“Like what?” Johnny asks.

“Like I’m better than young Rob Lowe,” Peter deadpans.

Johnny shrugs a little but smirks. “Maybe you are better than young Rob Lowe.”

“Nothing—dude, listen to me right now, nothing, and I mean nothing, is better than young Rob Lowe.”

Johnny squints the right half of his face and offers a flippant “Sure, Spidey,” before facing forward again.

“Wait. Wait, are you seriously implying I’m better than young Rob Lowe? Look at me again. Look me in the eye. Did you just—what were the unsaid implications?”

Johnny fake yawns and clambers to his feet, nearly throwing Peter off the awning as it bounces wildly. “Gosh, it’s getting late,” he says, looking at his empty wrist. “I oughta get back to the ol’ BB.”

“No, Johnny—Torch, hey, hey, Torch!”

Peter makes it to his feet before Johnny can jump off the awning due to his stupidly enhanced agility alone. He grabs Johnny around the waist with all the enthusiasm of a slap-bracelet and asks, “You think I’m better than young Rob Lowe?”

Johnny can’t stop smiling. “I think you’re the best young Rob Lowe.”

“Oh, thank god,” Peter says, and then they’re kissing.

So, yeah. It’s undoubtedly shaped up to be the best night of Johnny’s life. Even when they plummet like a pair of joyously infatuated stones eight feet to the sidewalk below.

#my writing #my fic #spideytorch #spiderman #spider-man #peter parker #the human torch #johnny storm #fluff #drabble #sorry this is literal ass its not serious dont take it too seriously #otp: human torch you’re my hero!

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onafastpace-contracting · 10 months

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4 Reasons You Should Install Artificial Turf

Artificial turf has become increasingly popular in recent years, and for good reason. This low-maintenance alternative to natural grass offers a range of benefits that make it an attractive option for homeowners in Brooklyn. If you're considering installing artificial turf in your yard, here are four reasons why it's a great choice.

Low Maintenance

One of the biggest advantages of artificial turf is its low maintenance requirements. Unlike natural grass, which needs regular mowing, watering, and fertilizing, artificial turf requires minimal upkeep. You won't have to spend hours each week cutting the grass or worrying about brown patches. With artificial turf, you can say goodbye to the hassle of maintaining a perfectly manicured lawn and enjoy more free time for other activities.

Cost-Effective

While the initial cost of installing artificial turf may be higher than that of natural grass, it can save you money in the long run. With natural grass, you have ongoing expenses such as water bills, lawn care products, and equipment maintenance. Artificial turf eliminates these costs, as it doesn't require watering or regular treatments. Additionally, you won't have to spend money on expensive lawn care services, as artificial turf is virtually maintenance-free. Over time, the savings can add up significantly.

Durability and Longevity

Artificial turf is designed to withstand heavy foot traffic and extreme weather conditions. It's made from high-quality materials that are resistant to fading, tearing, and discoloration. Unlike natural grass, which can become patchy and worn out over time, artificial turf maintains its vibrant appearance year-round. It's also a great option for areas that receive limited sunlight, as it doesn't require direct sunlight to thrive. With proper installation and care, artificial turf can last for many years, providing you with a beautiful and functional outdoor space.

Environmental Benefits

Installing artificial turf can have positive environmental impacts. Firstly, it eliminates the need for watering, which helps conserve water, especially in areas with water scarcity or drought conditions. Additionally, artificial turf doesn't require pesticides or fertilizers, reducing the use of harmful chemicals that can seep into the soil and water sources. Lastly, by opting for artificial turf, you can reduce your carbon footprint by eliminating the need for gas-powered lawn mowers and other maintenance equipment.

In conclusion, artificial turf offers numerous advantages for homeowners in Brooklyn. From its low maintenance requirements and cost-effectiveness to its durability and environmental benefits, it's a great choice for those looking to enhance their outdoor spaces. Consider installing artificial turf in Brooklyn and enjoy a beautiful, hassle-free lawn all year round.

#artificial turf installation brooklyn #artificial turf brooklyn #artificial grass installation brooklyn #fake grass brooklyn #artificial grass brooklyn

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etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years

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One In A Million - Chpt.8

Summary: The three of you settle into your new lives together as the inevitable draft day draws near.

Word Count: 1.5k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! This chapter is super short and I’m sorry for that but I really couldn’t make it any longer if I’d tried. It’s a doozy though. Hang on to your hats darlings! XOXO - Ash

Chapter Eight

March is almost over when you finally find a place. It’s a cute little ground floor apartment over in Cobble Hill with big windows and a tiny patch of grass out back for a yard. Just right for the newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Rogers. Steve dreams of sitting outside to paint and Bucky promises to grill your dinners all summer long. Your commute is longer now that you’re not in Brooklyn Heights but it’s manageable and you don’t mind since it means Bucky’s commute is shorter to the docks over in Red Hook. Steve gives up his job at the grocery store and takes a position at a nearby newspaper helping to draw copies of ads. The pay isn’t as good but he’s happier and between the three of you, you get by just fine.

April comes and you want to enjoy the warmer weather and settling into your lives together, but Bucky has less than a month left before he’s drafted and you’re heartsick at the thought. You try not to let it get you down, pouring yourself into the little garden patch you’ve started out back instead. You’re tending to your tiny pea vines when Steve gets home with a slam of your screen door.

You join him in the kitchen, worried when you see his glowering expression. “What’s wrong?”

Steve slaps his hand down on the counter top, frustrated. “I’m never gonna join the army.”

“Another 4F?” you guess, “You’re gonna break Bucky’s heart.”

“Worse.” he grits out, taking another long drink of water from his glass. “They caught me this time. Had all of my files spread out on the Captain’s desk. I could have been arrested, they told me as much. The guy was nice but he doesn’t get it, he can’t. He told me this was my only warning. If I get caught again they’ll lock me up. Said he couldn’t blame me for trying but I needed to accept things for what they were.”

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry.” you pull him into your arms, letting his anger burn off until the sadness pours from him like waves. You’re still holding him when Bucky comes in quietly behind you. You look up when you smell the familiar scent of saltwater that clings to him after a hard day’s work. He doesn’t ask, he just curls himself around Steve, holding on to comfort his partner.

“I won’t try again, Buck.” Steve says, finally breaking the silence. “I love you and Rose too much to risk getting locked up. I’m sorry.”

Bucky turns Steve around to face him, leaving you to rub his narrow shoulders. “Don’t you ever apologize for doing what you believe is right. That’s part of who you are, Stevie, and I love you. I’m glad you’re done trying but I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you wanted.”

Steve nods and holds onto Bucky tightly for a minute.

“Why don’t you two go sit in the living room and I’ll run down the block to get us sandwiches for dinner?” you offer.

“It was my night to cook.” Bucky frowns.

“You have something more important to take care of tonight.” you shoot a meaningful glance at Steve and Bucky nods in agreement. “I’ll be back in a few.”

That night you and Bucky are extra attentive to Steve, helping him work through the sadness and loss he’s dealing with. He tries to brush it off but you know he’s hurting. Giving up is something Steve Rogers never learned how to do and you can’t imagine the toll this is taking on him. You quietly hope that this set back doesn’t prevent him from meeting Erskine when the time comes but you have to have faith that it’ll happen the way it should.

After a few weeks in your new place, Bucky invites his parents and sisters down for Easter. He claims it’s because you and Steve have your heart set on hosting the first holiday in your new home. It’s really because Bucky wants you to meet his family and to show off your new place. You and Winifred Barnes hit it off from the second she walks through your door. You wish you could tell her how much you love her son, what an amazing partner he is to you and Steve. You settle for the friendship version of your affections, just as he and Steve have been doing their whole lives. It’s harder than you expected but you try and focus on being a good host and loving wife to Steve. You only have to slip away once to cry quietly in the bathroom, heartbroken for your boys who can’t live their lives out in the open. It makes you want to say timelines be damned and snatch the pair of them back into the future with you.

The day of the draft is coming, quicker than any of you would like. Bucky had to re-register when you moved, putting his name back into the lottery you already know he’s going to win. He gets quieter in the days before the announcement, a little more withdrawn. He holds you and Steve tighter at night, tells you he loves you more frequently too. Steve worries by throwing himself into this art. He leaves sketches of you and Bucky all around the apartment for you to find and pack away in a hat box for safe keeping.

The whole world seems on edge the closer draft day comes. Everyone has someone to worry over it seems. You kiss Bucky just a little longer that morning before he leaves for work. “It’ll be okay no matter what.” you promise him. “We’ll get through it together.”

“At least I know you and Stevie have each other if I have to go.” he tells you quietly. Your heart aches knowing you won’t. Your jump point is shortly after when he’ll be reporting for basic. The three of you will be separated and all alone, the way history is meant for it to be.

You can barely sit still at work waiting for the announcement over the radio. You have Bucky’s number written on a scrap of paper in your pocket. The girls in your pool are all worried about their husbands/ boyfriends/ brothers, and you sit huddled together praying when President Roosevelt’s voice comes over the radio. You can’t breathe when he starts calling out numbers, waiting for Bucky’s to be pulled. It’s for the best, it needs to happen, it already has happened technically. And then it’s over. Clara two desks over is wailing, her brother’s number was called. You sit stone still, staring at the piece of paper in your hand that has a number that wasn’t called.

You convince yourself you wrote it down wrong and fake sick to get sent home early. You race across the bustling city to get to Bucky, needing to comfort him and prove to yourself you did write it down wrong. Because Bucky Barnes was drafted into the US Army. He became a sergeant and was deployed to Azzano where he was taken by HYDRA and given a version of the serum. The same serum that Steve Rogers is given by Dr. Erskine to become Captain America. The history lessons fly through your mind like mantras as you hurry to get to the docks.

Bucky is standing with a group of men when you find him, his face grim. Relief washes over you that the timeline is intact, followed by the ache that you’ll be losing him to a hard life that no one deserves. Bucky steps away from the group to pull you aside.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” you tell him, tears in your eyes.

“For what?” he asks, confused.

“Your number… It was called. Right?”

“No, darlin’. I’m fine! You must’ve written it down wrong. I lucked out again.”

“But your face, you looked…”

“Tim got called, he’s a good man and a fine worker. I’m okay, Rose. I’m not going anywhere.”

You’re at a loss for words and Bucky just holds you close, assuming you’re relieved and happy. You want to be happy, you want to go home and celebrate with Steve that your little family gets to stay together. But the world feels like an unfamiliar place now. You look around taking in the sights you know by heart but no longer connect with. It’s a strange new time you’re living in now. A world where Bucky Barnes doesn’t go off to war. Where he doesn’t get captured and almost die. Where he isn’t brainwashed and tortured for seventy years. Possibly where Captain America never exists.

Oh god, what have you done.

Tag list! @wolfarrowepz

#one in a million #steve rogers #bucky barnes #reader insert #preserum steve rogers #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #named reader #captain america #steve rogers fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #captain america fanfiction #time travel #1940s setting #marvel #marvel fanfic

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tonystarkbingo · 3 years

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3 Prompt Summaries

Ransom Note, Royalty and Lending a Hand - suggested by @polizwrites

@rebelmeg - what do you get when you combine elite royalty, a mob boss with a reputation for being ruthless, and a ransom note that tells them both that their child is being held hostage? well... nothing good, that's for sure, because this team-up is going to be the stuff of legends.

@deehellcat - Prince Tony is promised in marriage to King Obadiah of a neighboring realm so their lands can be merged, but marrying that creepy old man is the last thing he wants to do. he confides in his best friend and bodyguard Sir James Rhodes who pledges to lend him a hand, Rhodey pens a fake ransom note that the prince has been kidnapped then helps him sneak out of the castle in disguise.

@somesortofitalianroast - Prince Steven of Brooklyn should have known it was a bad idea when he decided to tour Philadelphia by himself. At night. By the Schuylkill. Yeah, it wasn’t his best idea. He also should have known that the Family that still [still!] ran Philadelphia would send a ransom note to his family. And he should have known that the Duchy of Brooklyn had an inside man who was happy to lend a hand.

@27dragons - Barnes doesn't generally work kidnappings -- he's a homicide detective, so if they're calling him in on a kidnapping, it's because something went terribly wrong. But when Prince Tony is kidnapped off the street in broad daylight by a crew leaving no clues whatsoever other than an encoded ransom note, Chief Fury told him to get over there and lend a hand. The problem is, the note seems to suggest that the kidnapper... is Barnes himself.

@celtic7irish - We have your prince. Four words on a ransom note with no ransom demands. James sighed. The royalty around here caused him no end of grief. He turned to his best friend and Captain of the Guard. “It’s him again. Want to lend me a hand on this one?” Steve grinned, fierce and proud. “When do we start?”

@polizwrites - When Tony disappears leaving only a couple of face cards from his favorite deck laid out on his desk, Jim thinks it’s a joke - that is until Mr. Stark gets a ransom note. And as much as he despises Tony’s dad - Jim knows he has to help.

@Magicadraconia16 - When he complained to his Captain of the Guard that he really needed a break from his princely duties - and Howard - he wasn't expecting to end up staring at a random note . . . for himself.

@rise-up-ting-ting-like-glitter - Ransom Note, Royalty, Lending a hand In sickness and in health. That was the promise. Tony hadn't meant to break it. He certainly hadn't meant to wish Bucky away. Now he's got a ransom note sent by some 'Goblin King' and ragtag troupe of labyrynth dwellers willing to lend their hands...and sometimes paws.

@jacarandabanyan - Royalty AU, Prince Anthony Stark is kidnapped! His parents are searching the realm for him, and offering high prizes to anyone who can return him to them safely. The only clue they have is a ransom note written in Tony's own handwriting, and a claim from a servant that the Prince was seen approaching a rough dubious-looking man with one arm with a request that the man 'lend him a hand' getting out of a marriage contract…

Keep reading for more!

Sunflowers, Starlight and Lollipops - suggested by @magicadraconia16

@polizwrites - Morgan was never quite sure whether her father had made up that lullaby, or if it was something that someone had sung to him as a child, but it was a tune she still hummed to herself whenever she was feeling sad or lonely.

@celtic7irish - Tony had no idea where he was, trapped on an alien planet and lost in some sort of flower field, but with no flowers he’d ever seen before. He was pretty sure those were sunflowers, but they were sparkling in the starlight, making the whole field light up like it was coated in fireflies. Checking around in his pockets, Tony sighed as he pulled out one of Morgan’s lollipops and popped it into his mouth. “Great. Let’s go find the fairies and see if they can get me back home,” he muttered, striding off across the field.

@rebelmeg - art summary - stark family lying out under the stars in a field, sunflowers bobbing over their heads, and probably holding big colorful carnival lollipops because i've got no better idea + @newnewyorker93 - that, but daytime and they're looking at clouds, one of them is definitively lollipop-shaped

@somesortofitalianroast - It was the weirdest offering Tony had ever seen on his desk. A bouquet of sunflowers, a copy of Muse’s Starlight, and a bag of Dum Dum lollipops. There wasn’t even a card to explain who it was from, or who it was too. Huh. Maybe Pepper had put the items there and forgotten about them…

@27dragons - It's late by the time Tony gets home from work -- so late it's early -- and he's exhausted beyond belief. He navigates the house by the starlight coming through the windows and hopes desperately he won't wake anyone. He just wants to sneak into bed and curl up against his spouse for whatever few hours remain of the night. But he has to stop when he gets to the living room, where a lamp has been left on, shining on a carefully-arranged bouquet of sunflowers, Tony's favorite. Stuck in between the flowers are a handful of lollipops, proving that more than one person had a hand in this. The note says, "Cleared it with Pepper, you have tomorrow off. Come to bed." Tony's family is the best. [There, managed to write it so it can be whatever ship you want.]

@jacarandabanyan - One of Tony's less-publicized hobbies is funding off-the-wall science proposals made in jest at scientific conferences. The more outrageous the project, the more willing he is to pitch in money, supplies, networking help, etc. This time, he's even agreed to do the research himself. Which is how he found himself up on the moon of an unfamiliar planet in an unfamiliar galaxy, studying botany papers and trying to find what happens when you grow sunflowers by the light of a different star than Earth's sun. As ways to avoid the press and the Board go, it's original at least. Two months into his experiment, two little girls claiming to be "daughters of Thanos" pay him a rather menacing visit. He offers them a lollipop.

@rise-up-ting-ting-like-glitter - Once a decade, under the light of the full moon, and across the three dark nights of the winter solstice, the Starlight games are hosted. Sunflower has won the last four games running, but that was before Lollipop had Bucky fighting for them. This round they're out for nectar and Bucky intends to be MVP. Of course, the prize this year was extra sweet: a kiss from Starlight prince Tony-and a chance to win his hand.

@deehellcat - the last thing Morgan remembers is her mommy screaming as the car careened off the road and crashed. she sits up and looks around but she isn't in the city anymore, instead in a grassy field. a man comes toward her, a man she recognizes, and she runs into his arms yelling DADDY. they go for a walk thru a field of tall sunflowers (he says they're his favorite) and up a hill, they lie in the grass sucking on lollipops and looking at the stars. then he kisses her & tells her to give her mommy his love, before the world around her fades and she finds herself waking up in a hospital with Pepper hovering over her.

@summerpipedream - "What's this?" The book was frayed at the edges, but had a beautiful sunflower on the cover, a lolipop sticker on the edge. "Ana's cookbook," said Jarvis. "With all your favourite recipes as a child. " Now that omega Tony is expecting, and forced into bedrest by the doctor and his worried mate Steve, Tony vows to learn how to cook, one recipe at a time.

Hallmark, magic, and brunch - @somesortofitalianroast

@somesortofitalianroast - It’s not like Tony was expecting his Sunday brunch to be something out of a Hallmark movie, but he could have done without his fairy godmother showing up and telling him that he was the sole heir to a magical kingdom and it was time for him to claim his throne.

@polizwrites - Tony knows how to conjure up exquisite dishes with the wave of a wand; but to prove he truly loves his partners, he makes them a meal from scratch. It’s not his fault he really, really likes cinnamon…

@summerpipedream - "Nat, how the hell are pancakes supposed to solve anything?" Natasha rolled her eyes and tapped on the sign behind the counter. "Pancakes solve everything." Bucky glared. "You literally just put that up." Natasha waved her wand with a flourish. "And if I did? Eat up Barnes. Your destiny is about to walk through that door." Bucky was about to complain, but then the bell to the diner rang. Tony Stark walked through the door.

@27dragons - This isn't some sappy Hallmark movie. Bucky knows that. He's not expecting some magical force to make Tony fall in love with him, really. But he's going to try, anyway. Starting with brunch.

@rebelmeg - "tony... these are the most flawless eggs i've ever seen. how did you do that?" he grinned to himself as he slid the two perfect sunny-side-up eggs onto the waiting plate. "just magic." rhodey was watching from the table, a smirk on his face. "yeah, that or the hallmark movie you watched last week that made you cry." rhodey kind figured he deserved the piece of toast that tony threw at him.

@newnewyorker93 - Unfortunately for Stephen Strange there isn't a Hallmark card that quite covers apologizing for ruining brunch with Tony when a chaotic interdimensional beastie follows him through his portal (next time he'll take the subway)

@celtic7irish - Stephen glared at the man standing next to him. “What makes you think I can just I this away?” he demanded sarcastically. Tony shrugged, trying to hide a shiver. He wasn't dressed for this weather. “I don’t know. I mean, we were just supposed to be having brunch, and now we’re in some sort of freaking Hallmark Christmas thing, and I’m pretty sure that magic caused it. Because it definitely isn’t science.” He grimaced; Tony hated admitting that things like magic even existed, but when one had the Sorcerer Supreme for a boyfriend, one learned to accept that magic was probably real. Stephen sighed, summoning a portal to the Mirror Dimension. “Well, at least our first anniversary date isn’t boring.” Tony glared.

candlelight, window, vampire - suggested by @rebelmeg

@celtic7irish - The slender figure standing in the window, his profile lit only by the flickering candlelight, turned to look at him, and James shivered. So this was Anthony, rumored vampire and lord of the castle. And James' new patron.

@somesortofitalianroast - They’d all heard the rumors: an honest-to-god Vampire had set up in a moldering castle in Transylvania and was passing himself off as Dracula. After several sets of negotiations, Steve was chosen to go and check out the rumors. He was expecting… Well, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to see the most beautiful man he’d ever seen through the window, shaving by candlelight.

@27dragons - Bucky was starting to get a handle on this whole vampire gig. He'd figured out the best ways to hide from the sun, how to hide the death-pallor of his skin with candlelight, how to mask the scent of blood on his breath with wine. What he hadn't figured out was what to do about the stunningly beautiful man who was currently climbing through his window.

@rebelmeg - it had practically been a challenge, and Tony never backed down from a challenge. The whole world at large had managed to make vampires unsexy for pepper, but danged if he wouldn’t manage it before the night was through. The candles by the window had been placed strategically, putting a soft golden glow over the two of them as they looked at their reflections in the glass.

“Okay, tip your head back on my shoulder. A little more. Just like that. Now look.” tony saw it on her face when she saw them, framed in the window, his hand resting delicately on her jaw as he lowered his mouth to her throat.

“You win,” she said around a bit of a gasp, her pupils dilating as her heartbeat skyrocketed. “You as a vampire would definitely be sexy.”

With a pleased hum, tony gave her a playful nip. Just a little one.

@summerpipedream - You have 3 new messages. Press one to playback.

"Hey Tony, it's Steve. I'm sorry to interrupt your honeymoon with Bucky, but uh- do you remember Count Dracula lookalike last month? The guy who tried to take over the city? Well he's sent some sort of wedding gift to the tower. It's uh- hanging out the window. Hold on-"

"Hey Tony. It's Steve again. Uh any chance you know where the spare candles are? That's stupid why would the tower have candles- never mind."

"NEVER MIND. IT'S BAD. WE"RE RUNNING. DON'T COME BACK TO THE TOWER-"

End of new messages

@gavilansblog - Tony stared at the candle on the windowsill. Or rather, squinted. "What were you thinking?" He demanded, slurring around his fake vampire teeth. "How is this supposed to look like a haunted house when the lights are making it bright as day in here?" Bucky winced. "How was I supposed to know they even made 1000 watt candle shaped bulbs?" (Brought to you by the conversation I was having just now with a friend whose brother made this mistake)

@Magicadraconia16 - "Leave a candle in the window," they said. A load of superstitious old nonsense, if you asked Tony. As if he's really going to leave an old-fashioned burning candle in the window where Dum-E could knock it over (although, that would give him an opportunity to use his brand new fire extinguisher...) It was just a shame that nobody mentioned that the candles weren't to scare the vampire off - they were to feed the light-vampire, and without it... well, the next nearest source in Tony's house just so happens to be his arc reactor.

@polizwrites - As a creature of the night the warm glow of the candle on the windowsill was a bittersweet reminder of the world he’d never see again. “I’m sorry, my love.” James reached out as if to snuff the flame, but Anthony stayed his hand. “No need to apologize, dear one.”

Cats, Sandwich, Chaos - suggested by @celtic7irish

@somesortofitalianroast - Very little had changed since Steve had brought Bucky in from the cold. Except the lunch meat disappeared from the fridge at a rate that not even JARVIS could explain. And that Bucky brought a cat with him. It was a small, white thing that loved Tony’s workshop and loved the bots. It caused more chaos than something that only weight five pounds should have been able to cause, and it loved his sandwiches.

@celtic7irish - Tony stared at the chaos in his living room; overturned tables, toppled lamps, and were those claw marks on his drapes? “What the-?” Tony trailed off, his voice faint, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Daddy!” Morgan squealed, her eyes wide and face innocent as she held a squirming, wriggling bundle in her arms. A moment later, a small kitten stuck its head out of the blanket, meowing pitifully. “Can we keep her?”

@27dragons - Tony likes to think he takes a lot of weird things in stride, as an Avenger. Magic? Sure. Random visitations from a god of chaos? Old hat, these days. Insane robots and/or aliens trying to take over the city? No problem. But he had to admit, even he was having trouble maintaining his calm in the face of a trio of superheroes sitting at the kitchen table, eating sandwiches and sporting cat ears. Real ones. Oh, and tails. Yeah, he's... going back to bed.

@rebelmeg - “BUCKY!”

“What?”

“Your cat stole my sandwich again!”

Bucky watched as alpine skidded around the corner and dove under the couch, tony’s beloved 3-bacon sandwich clamped tight in his jaws.

“Yup. he sure did. Why do you keep leaving it out?”

“IT WAS IN MY HAND!”

Just another tuesday...

#tonystarkbingomarkiv #tsbmiv #tsb discord party #3 prompt summaries game

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akp-1327 · 4 years

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dear diary // chapter two

Hello again! Thank you all for the support on the first chapter! 💖 I am super happy that you all liked it and hope that you enjoy this one, too! 🤗

Find the series masterlist here to catch up on the previous chapter!

Word Count: 6.5k

(*) Warnings: mentions of divorce and a little swearing throughout.

(*) August 4th, 2020

Dear Diary...

Can't believe I came crawling back to this old thing. It sure has been a while, hasn't it? I haven't written in here since my parents (finally) got a divorce.

Yep, they decided that it was time to put an end to whatever sliver of a marriage they had left. Mohit (my little brother) and I were split up; he stayed with my mom in Brooklyn while I moved with my dad to Manhattan. He told me that it’d be "closer to school" and "more convenient" than driving all the way there from Brooklyn. And so, without starting yet another argument between them, I just went with it. I still see my mom, of course, but I can always sense the tension in the air whenever I pass through the threshold of my childhood home.

My life has been non-stop since graduation...and not in a good way. Sure, getting accepted into NYU was great, but then there was the post-divorce debris and rejection (Kelly…) and all of these god forsaken emotions that I had to sort through. It really, really messed me up. I almost failed my production class in that first semester because I was too busy focusing on Kelly’s rejection (about how she fell in love with her co-star and left me in the dark? About how she broke my heart? Yep, that whole spectacle.).

So, in conclusion, my life is nothing short of chaotic. Erin would say that I need to relax, but what is that when you work yourself to the bone?

...Yeah, I really don't know either. Obviously.

Alright. Into my bag you go. Let's see if I can find riveting stuff to write about this year...

Ajay

(*) I hastily unzipped my backpack and shoved the leather book I found moments ago inside, somehow managing to zip it closed. Right as I finish, though, I hear my dad’s deep voice from down the hall.

“Ajay, are you almost ready?” Dad shouted, his voice ringing through the empty room I sat in. It wasn’t necessarily my room, per se, but a guest room that I rented out for the summer. It’s the only way Dad would let me stay here - to be honest, I don’t understand why I just didn’t live with Amma for the whole two and a half months in an actual house where I could stay for free. Maybe I’ll do that next summer.

“I’ll be out in a second, Dad.”

Why was he rushing me out? Seriously, I’m driving myself. There’s no need to clamber me out the door like I’m some sort of animal. There was also the fact that it was August and how class didn’t start for another month; maybe Dad just was getting tired of me.

The floors of the downtrodden apartment squeaked beneath my feet as I walked out to the main living area, my packed bags already waiting for me on the carpeted floor. Dad stood in the kitchen, his nose in a newspaper, when he heard me approach. My hand instinctively tightened on my backpack strap as his eyes bore into mine.

“Well? Let’s get this going, Ajay. I have a meeting at seven and I’d rather not be late.” Dad huffed, walking to shoulder my light bags. All they had in them were my clothes, books, and dorm necessities.

It took him all of three seconds to walk to the patio door and slide it open (Dad lucked out and found a complex in the “suburbs” of Manhattan, so there was some grass and walking areas all around). I heaved a sigh and took one last look at the apartment, then headed out the door and into the hot and humid Manhattan air. Still, when we were only a few blocks away from the bulk of the city, you could smell the familiar scent of car exhaust waft on the wind.

Dad had already popped my car’s trunk open and set my stuff inside before I could even get over. He stood next to the driver’s door as I finally reached him.

“Thanks for letting me stay for the summer,” I said, rather cynically, “and for carrying my bags out.”

Because, you know, I can’t do that myself.

Dad gave me this weird smile; it was almost the one that he gave me when I first asked about him seeing another woman. The thought of him being with someone besides my mom still makes me angry, but there was nothing I could do about it now. Three years of divorce and he'd already found another.

Anyway, the smile he gave me was straight-lipped and had no hint of any genuine happiness. Just a fake smile that he hoped would convey some sort of message, like ‘congrats’ or some other stereotypical phrase that you’d say.

“Of course, Ajay. You’re my son,” Dad said, his tone feigning sincerity, “I’d do anything for you.”

Hmm, that’s what you told Amma. Now look where we are.

I held back an eye roll and stepped closer to my door, moving to open it, before Dad pulled me to him and gave me a bone crushing hug.

“I’m going to miss you, Ajay. Stay safe, okay?”

Huh; that response actually had some emotion. I could sense the probity in that one. If he were one of my actors I’d tell him to bring it out a bit more and really demonstrate the feeling in his body language. But, no, this is Dad and I can’t direct him around.

“I’ll miss you too, Dad. Remember to lock your door, seeing as I can’t do it for you anymore.” I said, pulling away to both catch my breath and to open my car door. With a quick glance at Dad, though, that wasn’t happening yet.

“When you get the chance, you should go visit your mom and Mohit. I can tell that you miss them, too.”

Something must’ve been in his coffee this morning. He never talks about Amma so domestically, but when he does (which is seldom at most) he keeps his tone even, almost somber. Mohit is a different story, but he still gets a little tense over the fact that he was his youngest son's second choice.. I believe that he lost a piece of himself when he divorced Amma; a vital piece that would make him act like the father I remember. Maybe that’s why he was so discombobulated.

“I’ll probably visit them this weekend. We’ll see, though,” I said, now getting into my car. Dad handed me the keys and clapped his hand on my shoulder.

My door, however, wasn’t closing due to Dad’s leg being in the way.

“Well, whatever you decide to do, just be smart about it.” Dad said, now laughing a little bit. (Jeez, I’m making a mental note to examine his coffee grounds when I come visit if this odd behavior keeps up.)

“Okay, Dad. Remember how you have a meeting at two?” I said, trying to ‘get this going’. If he was so hesitant on letting me go, why was he shoving my ass out the door?

“Oh! Crap. You’re right. Get going, kid,” Dad stammered, “I love you.”

Wow, color me surprised! Definitely going to sift through that coffee next time I’m here.

“Love you too, Dad. Bye.” I said, closing my door with a small wave. Dad waved in return and retreated back into his apartment, closing the door without looking back. Not surprising, of course, but definitely a little disappointing.

My car, a grey 2010 Ford Taurus, revved to life without hesitation when I turned the key in the ignition. Shifting into drive and pulling away from "home" for the final time that summer should’ve felt bittersweet like all the summers before...but I couldn’t find it in myself to miss this life anymore. The freedom of summer, no matter how much I had with my jobs, would never compare to the school life I cherished; mainly to escape my messy reality.

The forty minute drive to NYU whizzed by all thanks to my favorite musical soundtrack, Les Misérables, and a couple packages of rainbow goldfish that I bought specifically for the occasion. I avoided most of the traffic by taking the long way (the closest thing to “back roads” in the city), which tacked on a good twenty more minutes, but I could care less. All I had to do was track down Rory and Erin and knowing them...that wouldn’t be hard.

Sure enough, right as I’m an intersection away from the familiar campus grounds, my phone vibrates with a call on my passenger seat. With a quick glance, it was from Rory. I would get it, but then the damn light turned green after about two minutes; perfect timing.

After I pulled into the office parking lot to get my keys and dorm, I saw Rory’s familiar face light up and run towards my car from a nearby bench. He’s absolutely insatiable.

Rory beamed as he ran toward my car, Erin on his tail with a neutral, almost unhappy expression.

“Director man! You finally decided to show up!” Rory shouted as I opened my door. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide the grateful grin that grew across my features.

“I would’ve waited another month if I knew that you’d greet me like this,” I laughed, accepting Rory’s uncharacteristic fist bump with an arched eyebrow, “what was that for?”

Rory looked like he was about to combust from excitement. He kept bouncing on the balls of his feet and wringing his hands around.

Erin, on the other hand, rolled her eyes at his excitement. Ever the oddly unenthused one of us three, and that’s coming from me.

“Erin got a new roommate!” Rory shouted, his hands shooting into the air. I laughed as Erin sighed, though I was still quite confused. Erin wanted a singles dorm, though, because we’re still on campus, I guess she didn’t have control over that.

“I haven’t met them yet, but I think it’s a freshman,” Erin said, crossing her arms, “and we got our keys already. Go check in quick and we’ll go find our dorms.”

Erin was always bossy, but there was something different about her sternness in that moment that just made an unsettling weight settle in my gut. So, without pushing the situation further, I nodded.

“Sounds good,” I said, tossing my keys to Erin, “put your stuff in the trunk while you wait on me.”

The campus registration office was way too familiar for my liking. The past two years were alright, but this time around it just felt awkward. I could tell that I was surrounded by freshmen because of the bright lights in their eyes and their wondrous expressions as they looked around.

I pushed my glasses up my nose and let my eyes wander around as I waited for my turn. Ahead of me stood a girl with flaming red hair. Just by her stance I could tell she was someone that you shouldn’t cross; intimidating, but also carefree. She had a backpack on her shoulders and a black duffel bag sitting at her feet. From here, I could read the name on the tag: Leila Maciel, in dainty handwriting. I also looked at another thing that she was holding - a computer bag - and saw the name ‘Skye’ written in a font that you’d see printed in green on the cover of a Goosebumps book.

Maybe it was just an aesthetic to have different names in different styles on your things? Or one of the bags belonged to a relative? Maybe she had a fake ID and is currently failing to conceal her real identity?

I was snapped out of my thoughts as the girl picked up her bag and walked forward. I had to know more. My curiosity has been piqued.

“Welcome to New York University! Name, please?” Danielle, the student that I disliked behind the counter asked, her familiar soprano sending chills down my spine. I’ve always found Danielle to be a little creepy ever since I witnessed her ogle Rory all the time last year at rehearsal. She was completely smitten with him. Of course, Rory felt the exact opposite.

“Um, Skye Crandall.” The girl said, almost disdainfully. I didn’t even need to see her face to know that she cringed at the sound of her own name.

“Awesome, awesome...” Danielle trained off, scrolling through her computer, “Aha! Skye Crandall, you’re in dorm 332 in Lafayette Hall. Your roommate’s name is Erin Ward! She is a super cool junior.”

Danielle was even more of a blabbermouth than I remember her being.

“Here are your keys! Enjoy!”

“Uh, thanks.” Skye said, taking the keys from Danielle. I debated whether or not to tell the redhead about Erin, but decided to let the meeting happen on its own. This Skye girl also looked exhausted but also ready to kick someone’s ass at any moment...so...let’s just let that one slide.

“Ne--” Danielle started, though stopped and brightened when she saw me, “Oh my gosh, it’s Ajay! Hey, stranger!”

“Hi, Danielle.” I sighed, trying to not let my discomfort show.

I was probably failing.

She was already typing in my information before I could ask.

“How was your summer? Don’t you live in Manhattan?” Danielle asked, still typing away with her eyes focused on the screen.

“My dad does, yeah,” I said, maintaining her divided attention much to my displeasure, “and I had an alright summer. You?”

“Oh, it was great! I did so many things. Golfing, surfing, snorkeling, swimming with dolphins...all the things I usually do back home in Florida.”

That explains...some. She has always seemed to have a Florida-esque persona in that way. Not to give in to a stereotype, but Floridians tend to be on the “crazy” side of the behavioral spectrum. Danielle fits into that like a glove.

I was about to continue the conversation before she beat me to it. “Ajay Bhandari, you are in dorm 413 in Lafayette Hall and are rooming with Rory Silva. I’m guessing you know the rest?” Danielle said, passing me my keys. Internally, I rolled my eyes. Externally, though, I forced a nod.

“Yes, Danielle. Thank you.” I said, holding my breath as I walked away. She shouted something back at me, but I was too focused on getting the hell out of there to care.

Back at my car, I saw Rory leaning up against the passenger door and Erin sitting on the hood.

“Jeez, Erin, the hood of my poor car isn’t a bench!” I joked, trying to lighten the mood. Though, instead, she just looked burned out.

“I’m not sorry, director man,” Erin smirked, her smile not showing the happiness that it usually had. She stood up anyway to hand me my lanyard with my keys.

As Erin clambered into the backseat, I turned to Rory.

“You packed your entire house, right? Because I didn’t bring much this year for our dorm.” I said, attaching my new keys to my lanyard. Rory groaned and nodded.

“You’re lucky I basically bought Target out of their stuff. I even bought you those nice bed sheets you wanted so that you’d actually shut up about them. Oh, and a comforter to match at my mom’s insistence.” Rory said, sighing. I smirked and gestured for him to get in.

“I’ll pay you back for them later. For now, we gotta get to Lafayette Hall.”

The whole ride, because it was quiet, I tuned out. And then, without warning Guns and Ships from Hamilton played over and over in my head.

...This is going to be a long year.

The sun was almost hidden under the horizon once we arrived at Lafayette Hall. It wasn’t packed at all. It was actually pretty nice.

“Okay, guys, let’s go. We’ve already burned daylight, so we’re burning nightlight!” Rory laughed. Erin groaned from the backseat.

“Not how that works, Rory, but alright. I’m letting it slide for now.” Erin said, getting out. She sounded a bit happier, but still not like her usual self.

We all gathered our things and started to head inside. Rory was lugging countless bags with him, per usual, and Erin had three.

The lobby was like any other dorm building; familiar purple and white furnishings, same set-up. The front desk’s clerk looked like they were about to fall asleep.

Yep, this is definitely the NYU I remember.

“Okay, this is where we part. Come find me in room 332 when you guys finish up getting your room ready.” Erin said, heading in the direction of the stairs.

“Too cool to take the elevator?” Rory asked, earning a glare from Erin.

“I need to keep my legs toned for volleyball, genius,” Erin snarked in her (somewhat) usual tone, “now go take the elevator like a wimp.”

She turned and disappeared onto the staircase, leading Rory and I to look at each other.

“What happened with her over summer?” I asked nonchalantly, pressing the elevator button with my free hand. Rory heaved another sigh next to me.

“She didn’t tell me much, but,” Rory said, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I heard that something bad happened to her grandpa. I don’t know what, exactly, but you know how she gets with that kind of stuff.”

I should’ve known; this was the same Erin that I met two years ago when we were both freshmen at NYU; her grandma had just passed away that summer and she was a wreck. It was what allowed us to bond, both being damaged in our first year at NYU, and what led to us being so close. We had that pitiful connection and would always talk to each other about our painful experiences.

“Oh, um,” I said, unable to think of the right words to say in the moment, “that’s concerning.”

“Very. I left it alone, obviously, but I think you should talk to her about it. You guys have that kind of friendship, you know?” Rory said, nudging me with his elbow as the elevator doors opened (thank goodness it was empty).

“You have that kind of friendship with her, too. I’m not the only one here with good advice.” I said, remembering the moment last year when Rory had single-handedly pulled me out of a bad mood. It was right after I heard about my mom’s boyfriend, Jim, proposing to her and how she said yes; let’s just say that I wasn’t taking the news well.

Rory was silent for a second, and I could tell he was processing my words.

“I mean, I guess you’re right, but I really don’t...” Rory trailed off when we arrived on the fourth floor, pausing to walk off, “I don’t have the right kind of advice that Erin needs.”

Like I said, Rory is insatiable.

“Dear lord, Rory,” I laughed, hopefully walking in the direction of our dorm, “you seriously need to learn how to take a compliment and run. Especially from me.”

“Oh, shut up, director man,” Rory huffed, “I’m just saying that my advice isn’t as good as yours.”

Oh. My. God. And people always wonder why I never compliment my actors. Well, here’s example A.

“That’s controversial, but I’m too busy trying to find our dorm to argue with you,” I said, squinting at the dorm numbers; all of which weren’t ours.

“These are all going up. Let’s turn around.” Rory said, looking back at the empty hallway behind us. Jesus, why is this building so confusing?

“Good idea. Reroute.”

Over the next two minutes, we found dorm 413. It was right next to the elevator...but the opposite way. I fished my lanyard out of my pocket and unlocked the door.

The dorm was quaint, like any other, but with two tall and slender windows as opposed to one. It was also pretty big in comparison to what Rory and I had last year.

“So, are we doing the same set-up as last year?” Rory asked. I nodded and sighed, setting my lightly packed bags on the left bed.

“The right side is always seemingly larger and we both know who needs the extra space.” I joked, earning a tired laugh from Rory.

“How about we take Erin and we go shopping this week? Then you won’t complain so much.” Rory said, making me roll my eyes.

“If you insist.”

Unpacking didn’t take long. I just needed to organize my still-empty closet and set up all my personal items; a few pictures, a few of Mohit’s drawings, and a plain calendar that Jim got me. I really, really didn’t want to use it because of his relationship with Amma but I didn’t want to buy another one, either. I also ended up making the rock-hard mattress with the sheets and comforter set that Rory got me as I waited for him to finish setting up.

As Rory hung his dress shirts, I took a look at my phone. It was already ten past nine and Erin texted me about twenty minutes ago.

Erin: are you and rory alive? jeez, hurry up.

Ajay: Yep. We’ll be on our way in a second.

“Okay, that's enough unpacking for now,” Rory said, moving to store his suitcases. I loudly sighed and got up.

“Are you ready to go now? Erin’s waiting.” I asked loudly.

“Yes! Can you hear me?” Rory yelled, dissolving into laughter a second later. I rolled my eyes and started to walk towards the door.

Jesus, I feel bad for the RA this year.

“Knock knock, Erin! Your two favorites are here!” Rory said, knocking on Erin’s door. Only a second later, the door opened to reveal her dorm. Surprise, surprise, it was almost the exact same as ours.

“Took you guys long enough. Come on in.” Erin said. She already had everything unpacked on her side. Posters, pictures, and there were even fairy lights on her headboard.

“Nice place,” Rory starts, looking around, “almost looks like mine.”

A small snort came from the other side of the room and I looked over to see the familiar redhead from the registration office sitting on her bed. The only oddity...it was bare; no sheets, no blankets. Just a mattress.

“You guys must be Rory and Ajay?” Skye asked, her eyes leaving her laptop and flitting over to Erin for confirmation.

“In all their glory. Guys, this is Skye.”

Rory was the first to wave and stick his hand out for her to shake. “I’m Rory! Nice meeting you, Skye.”

Skye hesitated a bit before shaking Rory’s hand, and even then, she rolled her eyes.

“Same here, I guess,” Skye said, looking at me, “then you’re Ajay?”

“Yeah. I’m not going to shake your hand, though.” I said, trying to ease the gloom that weighed the room down. Instead, it just made things a bit awkward. Skye gave me a tight-lipped smile and nodded, brushing loose auburn hair that fell out of her ponytail away from her eyes.

“So, Skye, what’s up with your...decoration?” Rory asked. Her entire side of the room was bare.

“Well, I got the wrong bag from the airport, for starters,” Skye exasperated, closing her eyes, “and then I realized I forgot my computer charger and my phone charger at home just before you guys came.”

Yeesh, that’s rough.

“Speaking of, Skye, did you take the bag--” Erin started, though there was another knock at the door. Erin furrowed her brows and looked at me before she moved to answer it. On the other side stood two girls; one with blonde hair and about six inches shorter than me, the other with black hair and about the same height as me. They both looked nervous.

“Um, hello! Sorry to disturb you guys. Is this Skye Crandall’s dorm?” The one with blonde hair asked. She looked calmer and more composed than the other and she held an identical bag to the one at the end of Skye’s bed in her hands.

“Yeah, come on in.” Erin said, her familiar, welcoming smile appearing for the first time since I arrived.

Skye perked up from her bed, her eyes lighting up. The two girls clambered into the room awkwardly, making a beeline for the redhead.

“Skye, right?” The girl with black hair asked softly, taking the bag from her friend with a blush. Skye nodded and gave her the smallest smile.

“That’s me. Are you Leila, then?” Skye asked, getting up to retrieve the other bag. The girl with black hair sighed with relief.

“Yep. Leila is definitely my name.” Leila said. Her friend elbowed her in the side with a small giggle. Skye nodded and held out Leila’s bag.

Wow...this is really painful to watch.

“Sorry for the mix-up, um...” Skye blushed, blinking rapidly, “I was not paying attention. To anything at the time.”

Leila was about to speak before the other girl cut in. “That’s okay! I’m glad we found you. I’m Charlotte, by the way.”

“Charlotte,” Leila said between gritted teeth, taking her bag and putting Skye’s on her bed. In an even lower voice, she added, “Thank you, now butt out.”

Rory nudged my arm to get my attention. When I looked at him, his eyes were wide and looking between Charlotte’s back and my eyes.

“What?” I whispered, though Rory shook his head. Confusion blanketed my mind...all up until I saw that she was wearing a purple drama program shirt.

Drama. Program. She had to be in the drama program. She just might be a part of the show! Of course, because that’s just my luck. A girl that I could actually have a chance of getting to know in a non-theatrical way--

“Ajay?” Erin asked, waving a hand in front of my face. I stammered, feeling my cheeks involuntarily heat up. I could tell it was visible because Rory’s smirk grew by at least ten sizes.

“What?” I shouted, frustrated with my own thoughts.

“Want to go explore the building with us?” Erin asked, holding in a giggle. Glad to see she’s doing better.

“Oh, uh, sure? Why?” I said, looking between everyone’s humored looks.

“You would know if you weren’t so distracted, Ajay.” Rory teased, elbowing me again. I almost let out my retort but was interrupted by someone - probably the girls that were now snickering - clearing their throat on the other side of the room.

“To get to know the area, obviously. Why else would we?” Erin said, making me heave a somewhat dramatic sigh. Maybe she just needed to pick on me to raise her spirits.

“Is that okay with you two?” Rory asked, looking between Leila and Charlotte. They both gave a quick nod, though Leila frowned at the bag in her arms.

“Can we make a pit stop first?” Leila asked, eyeing Erin who gave her quite possibly the warmest smile I’ve seen her give over the past three years.

“Yeah, of course! Let’s get going, though. We need to be fully functional tomorrow to go shopping for the first big party of the year!” Erin squealed, making her way towards the door.

“I...you want me to go to a college party? With...but I’ve--” Charlotte gasped, her eyes going wide with panic. This immediately made Leila roll her eyes and nudge her friend hard in the shoulder with her own. A genuine laugh escaped Leila as she turned to everyone.

“Charlotte here isn’t much of a party animal, but she’ll definitely loosen up with time.” Leila teased, causing Charlotte’s cheeks to darken with embarrassment.

Nice to know that I’m not the only one in this friend group who isn’t too fond of parties. And it’s also nice to know that I may get along with her better than I thought.

“Well, sweetie, you’re going with us. We’re friends now, and no friend of mine will sit idle on the sidelines.” Erin grinned, opening her door.

After everyone exited the room, Leila and Charlotte walked a little ways down the hall before stopping in front of a door.

“We’ll be right out!” Leila said before dragging Charlotte into the room behind her. Not even ten seconds later, they appeared again.

“Okay, c’mon. We gotta explore this maze!” Rory encouraged, coaxing everyone to follow him. I caught his eye and he gave me a teasing wink. What the hell? With a glance around, I saw Charlotte walking next to me, her head immediately swiveling forward. Another blush covered her cheeks.

It turns out that Lafayette Hall isn’t exactly confusing, but it’s definitely something to get used to. It was just a big square with a lot of twists and turns.

Another thing to get used to was the fact that it had a nice game room, and with Rory and Leila’s insistence (I’m starting to think that they’re a deadly duo), we got the key.

“Oh my God, Ajay! They have a pool table! I call a rematch from that stupid party last year.” Rory gasped, taking a cue stick from the wall. I groaned and shook my head.

“I’d rather not hear you complain about your loss all night. Face off against Erin instead.” I laughed, earning a nudge from Erin.

“Thanks. Now I’ll be the one complaining all night - sorry, Skye.”

Skye gave a halfhearted smile, her mind seemingly elsewhere. Anywhere but this game room.

“Skye, can I challenge you to a game of ping pong?” Leila asked hesitantly, taking two paddles in her hands and holding one out to Skye. With both a sheepish glance and a gingerly-moving hand, Skye took it and spun it around a few times.

“Don’t go easy on me. We may have just met, but I’m not made of glass.” Skye smirked, taking her place at the table and serving the ball to Leila. Over at the pool table, I watched Rory narrow his eyes at Erin; it looked like she currently had the upper hand.

“So, Ajay, right?” Charlotte said from beside me, startling me a bit. I turned to see her leaning up against the wall, looking at me.

“That’s me,” I answered awkwardly, relaxing onto the wall to match her stance. Her eyes, which I realized were a cerulean blue, left my figure to watch the ping pong match that slowly intensified.

“Where’re you from, Ajay?”

“I was born in Maryland, but my parents moved to New York shortly after that.” I said. “You?”

“Cedar Cove. It’s a tiny town in Oregon a few miles east of Portland. I bet you’ve never heard of it?” Charlotte said. I nodded, still keeping my eyes moving between the two games despite my lackluster concentration on them.

“Nope,” I chuckled, “but that’s alright. What’s so unique about Cedar Cove?”

Charlotte fell silent for a second, though quickly replaced it with a humored sigh.

“That’s like asking a little kid why they want to go into a candy store, dude. I don’t have a single answer! Give me a different question.” Charlotte giggled, shaking her head.

“Fair enough,” I smiled, “what brings you to The Big Apple, then?”

She let out another small giggle, and in that moment, I noted that she had a very laid back personality and a contagious laugh.

“Besides college?”

“Well, yeah. Obviously.”

Deafening silence fell between us again until she piped up once more.

“I’m planning to take over the world, of course,” Charlotte whispered, “but, shh, you don’t know that. So don’t blow my cover, okay?”

Okay, she is officially someone I’d like to get to know better.

“I’ll try my best.” I responded, looking over at her. I didn’t realize this before, but she had light freckles scattered around her face, too. “What are you majoring in?”

“Drama, and then minoring in production. I’m trying to make it as a Broadway star or an actress.” Charlotte said, her voice louder than a whisper but still quite hushed. Something immediately clicked in my mind.

“Wait, you’re from the Cedar Cove that won the Spotlite competition in London like two years ago? Berry High, I think it was?” I gaped, making her gasp. She turned to face me with a bright and surprised smile.

“No way, you saw our show?” Charlotte beamed, her expression softening with (what I could only assume to be) nostalgia.

“Not in person but I did see clips. It was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen! Every aspect of it was spectacular and I was blown away by the improv skills of the leads during that blackout.” I rambled, my director’s side slowly finding its way out. Another thing clicked in my mind when she smirked. “Wait, you were a lead, weren’t you?”

Charlotte eagerly nodded. She looked so happy to be talking about this, for some odd reason.

“I was! And, for the record, that improv was terrifying!” Charlotte babbled. “But enough about me. What’re you doing here, Ajay?”

Should I blow my cover already? Tell her that, ‘yeah, I might be your director and will probably be someone that you'll learn to resent.’? I barely got to know her before she heard the truth.

“I’m majoring in drama, too. Minoring in both cinema studies and theater. All for the purpose of becoming a director.” I said, keeping my tone composed.

“Are you going to strictly direct theatrically or are you going to branch out to the silver screen?” Charlotte asked, examining my eyes. It was both flattering and a little embarrassing at the same time; she’d look at one eye for only a second before moving onto the other, and back again. It was like a workout for my eyes.

Oh no, I’m rambling.

Before I could give her my response, Erin yelled a cacophony of slurs, swears, and phrases mashed into one.

“Ajay, please knock some sense into this guy!” Erin huffed, shaking her head. “I can’t believe I lost to...to Rory!”

I gave Charlotte a sorrowful expression before looking back at Erin. “Another time, Erin. Can’t you--”

Leila yelled out, too. “Jesus, how’re you so good at ping pong?”

Skye simply gave her a smile. “Many, many hours practicing.”

I sighed, turning back to Charlotte. She was grinning, her arms folded across her chest; still looking like she was waiting for my answer.

“To answer your question, I think I’ll stick to the stage. I’m taking cinema classes this year if that thought changes, though.” I rambled. A hum escaped her as she nodded.

“Then you’re going to be a part of the show, right?” Charlotte asked, tucking a few stray hairs behind her ear. Her eyes, a deep cerulean blue, swirled with uncertainty. An anxiety, almost.

“Yeah,” I said softly, noticing her change in demeanor; her once carefree posture had coiled into a tense inverse of itself. “Are you planning on auditioning?”

Charlotte bit her lip and looked down at her shoes.

“Do you think I should?”

I hesitated for a second, running a hand through my unkempt hair, and lowered my voice down to a whisper. “Well, not to sound creepy or anything, but I’ve seen you act. And from what I saw on that stage two years ago, you’d be a great addition to any cast.”

A massive blush exploded across Charlotte’s face, turning her cheeks a bright red. “That’s...high praise coming from a director. Thank you.”

I gave her arm a small nudge with my elbow in response, causing her to break into a fit of laughter. All the sudden, though, the door to the game room slammed open, revealing a group of ambitious freshmen.

“Oh, we’re done in here, guys!” Erin said hurriedly, hastily gesturing our group out the door. For a split second, I saw surprise pass through her features; the kind that made it seem like she was remembering something. Dear God, what is wrong with this day?

“The room is all yours!” Rory blurted before closing the door behind him. In the hallway, everyone looked confused.

“I still want to know all your secrets to being a ping pong goddess.” Leila laughed, making Skye crack a laugh for the first time since Rory’s grand entrance about an hour ago.

“My secrets are extremely guarded, so good luck.” Skye challenged, narrowing her eyes the slightest bit at a clueless Leila.

“Oh, wow, what time is it?” Charlotte gasped, whipping out her phone. Her expression turned into panic. “Oh my God, I have six missed calls from my parents and a few from my brother! I need to go!”

“Wait, wait! Let’s exchange numbers!” Rory said, not letting Charlotte leave. Hurriedly, she shoved her phone into everyone’s hands. Once she reached me, I fumbled over the numbers. Dear God, Ajay, get yourself together.

“Quickly, please!”

Leila laughed for a minute before she pulled her own phone from her pocket, her happiness crumbling into annoyance.

“Jeez, ten missed calls from mine!” Leila huffed. Erin was about to speak before Charlotte chided in with a farewell.

“It was super awesome meeting you guys,” Charlotte said hurriedly, taking Leila’s arm, “I will text you all later! See you!”

Without another word, the two took off down the hallway and to the elevator.

“Well, um, we met three new people today!” Rory cheered, elbowing Skye’s arm. She didn’t look too pleased.

“Awesome, but I’m ready to go relax. Skye, need help setting a few things up?” Erin said, turning to her roommate that gave her a shrug.

“You don’t really need to help me, but, sure.” Skye sighed, looking down at her feet. Again, why were everyone’s feelings so sensitive today?

“Alright, then. This is where we split up.” I added, walking towards the elevators. Rory started to follow when Erin led Skye towards the stairs.

“Good night, guys.” Erin called, waving, and then turning a corner.

After tossing and turning for a good two hours, I pulled out my phone and decided to text Erin. She’d be up at the late hour (she rarely sleeps) and I wanted to check in with this odd behavior.

Ajay: Hey. Is everything okay? You’ve been acting weird ever since I arrived.

A response came not even a minute later. Figures.

Erin: i don’t want to talk about it, ajay. thanks tho.

Ajay: I wasn’t asking to talk. I was asking if you were okay.

I knew something was wrong, but Erin was usually the type to ramble on and on about anything she faced. It was strange to see her bottling up all of her emotions.

Erin: i am. don’t worry about me.

Erin: i just had a really rough summer.

Wow. How do you even respond to that?

Ajay: If you need to talk or anything, you know where to find me. Okay?

That’ll have to do for now. No pressure, just assurance. Hopefully that’s enough.

Erin: yep. night.

Because either of us will actually end up sleeping tonight...

Ajay: Night, Erin.

#high school story class act #hssca #ajay bhandari #skye crandall #rory silva #erin ward #mc: charlotte parker #oc: leila maciel #choices stories you play #warnings: mentions of divorce and some swearing #chapter two! 🥳

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roboticonography · 5 years

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I've always wondered, in FWNL, how Steve and Peggy part when she leaves to go to school, and what Steve thinks of Peggy forging a new path in a new world. Any insight you might have?

So I know that you sent this ask approximately a billion years ago, but here’s the thing: I liked this prompt a little too much.

Because in FWNL, Steve and Peggy leave things on an uncertain note when she leaves for school - in part because of everything that’s going on in Steve’s world that he can’t talk about.

But I couldn’t stop thinking of how they might have said goodbye, if things had been a little different. So here’s what I came up with, which is basically an AU of an AU.

=======

The Nearness of You

The night before she’s due to leave, Steve takes Peggy to a free movie night, at a park in his neighbourhood.

He knows a lot of people would give him low marks for being cheap and unoriginal, but the only person he wants to impress doesn’t seem to mind.

He meets her at the subway station, because she wants to try navigating on her own.

Right on time, she ascends the stairs, elegant, unhurried. Her simple wrap dress is the green of summer grass, with a pattern of sunny yellow flowers; her shoes and her handbag are the same glossy red as her lipstick. It’s a combination of colours that shouldn’t work, but on Peggy, it’s perfect.

When he asks if she had any trouble with the train, she arches an eyebrow and reminds him, “I used to live in Brooklyn, you know.”

And it’s true that she walks with the air of someone who belongs there. But then, she’s like that everywhere she goes—in stark contrast to Steve, who couldn’t blend in with a crowd if his life depended on it.

On the way over, they pass an ice cream shop that Steve has seen mentioned online. It’s supposed to be good, and the line inside is short; on a whim, he suggests a detour.

The place happens to be next door to a donut shop, and the two have conspired to make donut ice cream sandwiches.

Something Steve has always admired about Peggy is her enthusiasm for eating. Since her return, he’s been making mental lists of foods in the new century that he wants to introduce her to. A donut ice cream sandwich hasn’t been on his radar, until just this moment.

He watches Peggy spend almost a full minute ogling them in the freezer case before concluding, with a profoundly sad sigh, “I don’t think I could manage it.” It’s the same wistful look she used to have during the war, when talking about meat and milk and real chocolate, not the chalky clay tile issued by the army.

“Let’s split one,” he offers. “You pick.”

After further and even more intense deliberation, she selects a decadent red velvet cake donut, with a cream cheese ice cream centre.

They decide not to risk eating outside; the sun is going down, but the evening is still sultry, and neither of them are in the mood to race the clock. They find a table by the window.

Steve is so busy watching Peggy smooth the softening edges of the treat with her tongue that he lets his half melt down his arm all the way to his elbow.

He blows through their entire supply of napkins trying to wipe off the sticky mess.

He thinks she’s amused; it’s still a little hard to tell sometimes, but he’s gradually remembering how to read her face.

“Aw.” He frowns comically. “Now no one’s gonna want to hold my hand.”

He means to be cute and flirty, but he can tell by the way her expression changes that he’s caught her off guard, maybe embarrassed her a little.

Changing the subject quickly, he asks, “Are you all packed for your big trip?”

“Yes. It’s remarkably easy, when you don’t own anything. Which reminds me, I ought to give you back your books.”

“That’s okay. You hang onto them.”

She doesn’t look pleased. He thinks he knows why: she doesn’t like owing a debt.

“You might need some of them for school. I’ll get ‘em back the next time you’re in town,” he adds.

“All right.” She takes a bite of the ice cream sandwich and it falls apart in her hand, half of it dropping straight down the front of her dress. “Oh, hell.”

Steve goes to get more napkins.

“There’s really no dignified way to do this,” she observes, one hand delving into her décolletage. He catches an eyeful of milky skin and ivory lace before it occurs to him to look out the window instead of staring like a caveman.

“I like your dress,” he says, because things weren’t awkward enough already.

Peggy grins. “Now that I’ve drawn attention to its best feature?”

He grins back, but says only, “Green’s a nice colour on you.”

“Thank you.” She dabs delicately at her neckline. “I rather think so too.”

Another thing he’s always admired about Peggy: her way of accepting compliments by agreeing with them. As if she arrived at the same conclusion ages ago, and has just been waiting for everyone else to finally catch up.

When they get to the park, he sees couples unfolding colourful blankets or matching beach chairs, pulling out bags of snacks and bottles of water. He wishes he’d planned a little better. He has to settle for spreading his windbreaker on the ground so Peggy won’t get her dress dirty. There isn’t enough room on it for two of them, but that’s fine; after such a hot day, it’s nice to lean back on his elbows and stretch out in the cool grass.

The movie is an animated feature about the secret lives of toys. It seems good—people in the audience are laughing—but he’s completely lost. He spends all his time either gazing at Peggy, or looking blankly ahead with a keen awareness of her body beside his.

The sky above them fades into shadow.

He doesn’t realize he’s dozing off until Peggy gasps. He startles awake just in time to catch her face in profile, lit up, staring raptly at the screen. His heart feels weightless, suspended in his chest.

She turns, as if sensing his gaze. “Are you laughing at me?”

He tries, and fails, to wipe the dopey smile off his face. “No, ma’am.”

She fake-glares at him, nudging his knee with her elbow before turning back to the movie.

The next time he wakes, it’s because she’s shaking his shoulder gently.

He sits up, slightly groggy. The film’s end credits are rolling. People are packing up, chairs in hand, sleepy children on their shoulders.

He can’t believe he fell asleep in the middle of a date. He’s lucky she didn’t just go home and leave him there.

He rubs his face briskly, trying to wake himself up. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Her eyes and her mouth have gone very soft. “You must have needed a rest.”

There’s so much he wants to tell her, in that moment. But all he can do is nod. “How’d you like the movie?”

She smiles, cheeks dimpling. “Brilliant.”

He helps her to her feet, then scoops up his jacket. He’s about to put it on when she stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Hold still.” She bats at his back. “You look as though you’ve been rolling in the grass.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It does.” Her hand slows, softens. “Under the right circumstances.”

Steve can’t think of anything appropriate to say to that.

They make their way to the edge of the park, walking slower than usual.

Her hand brushes his. He thinks it might be an accident, at first. The second time she does it, he takes hold of her fingers—loosely, giving her plenty of ease to slip away.

She steps closer, presses her palm firmly against his.

They hold hands all the way to the entrance to the subway, where Peggy lets go to fish her fare card out of her handbag.

He offers to see her back to SHIELD.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She’s clearly pleased. “It’s got to be out of your way.”

The truth is, his place is a five-minute walk from where they’re now standing. “Maybe a little,” he concedes.

“You can ride along until I have to transfer.”

“Deal.”

On the train, they sit shoulder to shoulder—at Steve’s size, it’s impossible not to. After a couple of stops, he drapes his arm over the back of Peggy’s seat. It’s mostly to give her more room, though of course that’s not the only reason. If it’s not okay, he’s sure she’ll let him know.

One more stop passes.

“We should do this again,” he suggests. “When you’re back in town.”

“I’ve no idea when that will be.”

“That’s okay. It’ll keep.”

He’s not sure exactly what it refers to, but Peggy nods, as though what he’s just said makes perfect sense.

And then she leans into his side, and they make the rest of the trip that way, quietly together.

In the station, the silence between them turns awkward. It’s a lousy place to say goodnight: it’s crowded, the air is humid and stale, and there’s a busking saxophonist whose enthusiasm far outstrips his technique.

Steve settles for a cavalier, “Text me when you get home, yeah?”

She gives a dramatic, full-body sigh. “Must I?”

He chuckles. “I don’t need a whole message. Just proof of life. An emoji is fine.”

“Is that the… smiley face thing?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll give it a go. But I won’t promise anything.”

As her train screeches its approach, he hugs her, one arm across her shoulders. She slides a hand around his waist, presses her face to his collarbone; her breath, through his shirt, is warm on his skin. Her hair is raw silk, and smells like springtime. His eyes are closed. He thinks hers are, too.

He doesn’t realize how long they’ve been holding one another until she pulls away, murmuring, “I’ll miss the train.”

Steve is afraid of what’s going to come out of his mouth if he opens it. So he just smiles, squeezes her hand once more, and lets her go.

After seeing her off, he takes the steps up to the street two at a time, and walks the eight miles home at a brisk clip. His heart is soaring.

It won’t be easy to be apart, of course—but unlike during the war, there’s a timeframe, and an understanding between them. It’s easier to stay in touch. And it’s not like she’ll be on the other side of the world; she might even invite him to visit her, once she’s settled.

Her text arrives about an hour after he gets home. It consists solely and entirely of the letter S.

He waits, for several minutes, watching the typing indicator fade in and out of view. At last, the full message pops up: Safe and sound.

Get some rest, he writes back. Big day tomorrow.

He’s already put his phone back on the nightstand when it whistles again. No words—just a sleepy snoring face emoji.

To Steve, it feels like nothing short of a miracle.

#steggy #steve rogers #peggy carter #FWNL #FWNL 2.0 #robofic #7l14128sa

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